Missing Impossible
by Erin T. Aardvark
Summary: The boys thought "The Shadow Incident" and the "Carnival Creepshow" were nightmarish situations. They ain't seen nothin' yet! Rated T for now, but the rating may go up later. WARNING: this fanfic is probably my darkest one to date.
1. Hitchin' A Ride

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I find it only fair to warn you, this one is one of my darker fanfics. As always, The Impossibles and Big D belong to Hanna-Barbera. Everyone else you encounter belongs to me._

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><p>It was a Saturday afternoon at Megatropolis Mall. Sixteen-year-old Jamie Phelps was spending the day at the mall's arcade with his best friend, Billy Bradley, and kicking his butt in air hockey. Jamie managed to get the puck, and he shot it into the goal.<p>

"I win again," he said. "That makes three wins in a row. Hey, I'm on a roll today!"

"I hate this game," Billy grumbled, practically throwing his mallet on the table.

"You've said that about every game we've played here today," Jamie said, setting his own mallet down, and following his friend. "What, just because I beat you at everything . . . . ."

"You don't have to rub it in my face!" Billy snapped. "I can whip you any time, you know! And I usually do! I _let_ you win everything, you know that? I _let_ you win!"

"No you didn't," Jamie said. "What's the matter with you, anyway, Billy?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, man, you can tell me. I know when something's up."

"Nothing is up, so just drop it, okay?"

Jamie dropped it. He knew Billy was testy. He'd been that way for awhile now, ever since his mother died from cancer four months ago. Since then, his father had begun to drink, which cost him his job, so his twenty-year-old sister, Judy, had no choice but to get a job, just so the family could make ends meet. Fights between Billy and Judy were appearing more than usual, as well. Not only that, but both Billy and Judy would get into huge shouting matches with their father. Billy's schoolwork was starting to suffer as well, which only made the fighting among the family a lot worse. The only peace and quiet Billy ever got was when he was out of the house.

"I gotta tell ya, Jaim," he said, as he loaded a couple of quarters into a pinball machine. "I hate it at my place!"

"I know," Jamie said. "You've only told me about a hundred times in the past couple of months."

"You're lucky you have a normal, _func_tional family!"

"I wouldn't say that. And I wouldn't say your family is dysfunctional, either. You're just going through some tough times since your mom . . . . ."

"Yeah, well . . . . I don't want to talk about that right now, okay, Jaim?"

"Yeah, okay, Billy."

Jamie then watched his friend take his frustrations out on the pinball machine. He knew Billy didn't like talking about his mother, and he really couldn't blame him.

"Look man, I know you don't want to talk about it," he said. "But if you ever want to, I'm here for ya. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Billy said. "But living at my place has become a pain in the neck! First my mom . . . . . well . . . . ."

"Yeah . . . . ." Jamie said. "I know."

"Yeah," Billy said, and then he cleared his throat. "Anyway, after that, my dad starts drinking and he loses his job because he got caught drinking booze on the job, so now my sister has to take on two jobs just so we can pay our bills . . . . . and she's trying to talk _me_ into taking a job as well . . . . . and my dad isn't even _try_ing to get a new job . . . . let me tell ya something, Jamie, it is the _pits_!"

Jamie nodded. He really couldn't say much. Sure, he had his troubles with his own family (who didn't?) but they were never quite like Billy's troubles. After about ten more minutes of practically killing the pinball machine, Billy stopped, and he and Jamie left the arcade. Jamie had to find a pay phone so he could call his parents for a lift home from the mall.

"Doesn't it bug you that your folks won't let you have a car?" Billy asked.

"They can't afford another car," Jamie shrugged. "Besides which, I flunked Driver's Ed."

"But you have to rely on your parents all the time for rides and stuff. Doesn't that make you feel like a little kid?"

"Not really. It just shows they're looking out for you, ya know?"

"Not mine. My dad couldn't care less about what I do. That's why I'm gonna leave for Hollywood."

"What are you gonna do in Hollywood?"

"Become famous overnight, of course! I've got the looks, I've got the talent, I've got the charisma! All I need is to get outta this place!"

"And just how are you gonna _get_ to Hollywood anyway, genius? You don't have a car, and I doubt your sister'll give you a lift."

"Eeehhhh."

Billy walked over to a bench, grumbling, and sat down to wait while Jamie made his phone call. Jamie just sighed, and put a couple of quarters into the phone. Someone finally picked up after about three rings.

"Hi, Dad," he said. "Yeah, Billy and I are finished here. We'll probably hit the food court for a couple of sodas on the way out, though, so we'll wait for you outside there, okay? Great, thanks. Bye."

Jamie hung up, and he and Billy started for the food court. They grabbed a soda at one of the counters, and then went outside to wait for Jamie's father.

"I'm headed west tonight, Jamie-boy," Billy said. "The next time you see me, it'll be on the big screen, playing right in this mall!"

"Yeah," Jamie said. "Billy Bradley stars in _Rebel Without a Clue_."

"You don't think I can do it, do you? Well you just watch me."

"Billy, come on, man. You've gotta be nutso. What's your dad think about you going out to Hollywood?"

"_Psh_. You'd think I'd tell him? Please. The only thing _he's_ concerned about is running out of Budweisers before the weekend!"

"I don't know. I don't think running away from home is gonna do you any good. I tried it once, and I nearly got killed by this crazy cult leader. Besides which, not only did I nearly get killed, I nearly got somebody _else_ killed along with me! I still want to know how you're gonna get out there."

"I'll probably bike it or something."

"Bike? Geez, man, you'll _never_ get to Hollywood _that_ way!"

"Sheesh, you're such a dweeb, Jamie."

Jamie was about to say more, but stopped when he saw his father's car pulling up to the curb. Jamie got into the front passenger seat while Billy got into the back. When they got to Billy's house, Billy climbed out, and Jamie went out to follow him.

"Give me a couple of minutes, Dad," he said. "I gotta talk to Billy about something important, but I don't want to get you involved just yet. He might get mad."

"Sure," Dr. Phelps said, nodding. He respected his childrens' privacy. Jamie ran up to the front stoop while Billy was fishing for his house keys.

"Listen, Billy," Jamie said. "You're my best friend. We've been best friends since kindergarden. I know you're still bummed out about your mom, and I don't blame you. I mean, you don't get over this sort of thing over night. I know your mom died four months ago, but I know you don't really get over it."

"How would you know?" Billy asked. "Both your folks are still living."

"My friend, Flu . . . . I mean, my friend, _Franky_," Jamie said, catching himself from using Fluid Man's code name in front of Billy. Jamie was so used to calling the Impossibles by their code names, since the three of them rarely went by their given names.

"What about him?" Billy asked.

"He lost both his parents when he was three," Jamie continued. "He says you never really get over it, and he _still_ hasn't gotten over it. I just want you to think a little more about this running away to Hollywood without telling your dad or your sister before you actually _do_ it. And, in any case, you're just gonna chicken out."

"Yeah, well . . . . . whatever Jaim."

"You know you _always_ chicken out! Remember you said you were gonna send that demo tape of yours to that record company? You never sent it, did you?"

Billy unlocked the front door, and went inside. Jamie sighed, and started going back to his father's car. Before he did, however, the front door opened.

"And don't you _dare_ tell anyone about this, Jamie!" Billy shouted. "Cause if you do, you're gonna get it!"

"Good night, Billy," Jamie said, ignoring his friend's threat. Then he climbed into his father's car, and Dr. Phelps drove off.

"Having some trouble, Jaim?" Dr. Phelps asked.

"Yeah," Jamie said. "Billy's just having some issues. He says he's going out to Hollywood tonight and become an instant celebrity. But I don't think he's serious. Billy's never been serious about doing anything he says he's gonna do, anyway. Last week, he said he was gonna become a recording star overnight just by sending a demo to some recording company, but he chickened out. He'll chicken out this time again, I'm sure."

Dr. Phelps nodded. He wasn't exactly sure what the heck his son was talking about, but he decided not to press it.

At around two thirty in the morning, Billy stuffed some clothes into his backpack, and left his house, quietly. He didn't want to wake up his father, or his sister. He was pretty sure they'd never even notice he had left, not until he became famous over night, he thought.

Billy retrieved his bicycle from the side of the garage, and pedaled off. He made it to the highway a couple of hours later, stopping here and there for a burger. After awhile, he realized this was _not_ going to get him anywhere. He needed a ride out to Hollywood. There wasn't that much traffic out on the road, but there were _some_ vehicles passing by. So, Billy got off his bike, stuck out his thumb, and tried hitchhiking. This wasn't getting him anywhere, either, due to not much traffic, and he figured it was too dark out, and nobody could see him. He continued pedaling his bike down the highway for awhile, but stopped when he hit something in the road, resulting in a flat tire.

"Crud," he grumbled. "I'm gonna _have_ to keep thumbing for a ride. Hollywood is too far to walk to."

Billy stood on the side of the road, and stuck his thumb out, hoping for the best. Most of the drivers passed by him completely. Finally, lady luck dealt Billy the card he was looking for. A large, white van approached, and slowed to a stop. The driver, a man in his late thirties, or early forties with dark brown hair and blue eyes, rolled down the window on the passenger side of the vehicle.

"Where ya heading, kid?" he asked.

"Hollywood," Billy said. "I'm gonna be a star overnight."

"Is that a fact?" the man said. "Well, you certainly got the looks for movie stardom. Hop in. When you're rich and famous, I'll get to tell my pals I helped you get your big break."

"Hey, thanks, man!"

"You can load your bike into the back of the van."

The man then got out of the van, and opened the back doors for Billy. Once his bike was stashed, he and Billy went back around to the front of the van, and climbed in. Once they were both in the van, and their seatbelts were buckled, the man started his car, and drove off.


	2. The Investigation Begins

A few days later, after another long whirlwind tour of playing sold-out concert, and busting bad guys, The Impossibles returned to Megatropolis, happy to be back in their hometown for awhile.

"These long tours are killing me," Fluey said.

"All in the line of duty, Fluey," Multi said, petting his pet puppy (and the group's mascot), Skittles, who was sound asleep.

"That's true, but it's good to be back home," Coiley said.

"I guess you're right," Fluey said, shrugging. "Hey, man, swing by Doc Phelps's place before we head on to HQ, I've got to drop off those shot glasses Jamie asked me to pick up for him."

"Gotcha," Coiley said.

Jamie collected shot glasses, even though he was too young to drink. Since he hardly ever went anywhere exciting, he had asked Fluey to pick a couple up for him every time the Impossibles went on tour. Within minutes, Coiley pulled up to Dr. Phelps's house, and Fluey got out, went up to the door, and knocked. Jamie answered it a few minutes later.

"Hey, Jamie," he said. "I got those shot glasses you wanted."

"Great, thanks," Jamie said, a little unenthusiastically, as he took the wrapped glasses.

"Hey, what's up?" Fluey asked. "You look kinda nervous about something."

"Well . . . . ." Jamie said, a little hesitantly. "I'm not sure if I should tell you . . . . . it's kind of involved."

"What, does your dad think you're actually using this shot glass collection of yours to drink or something?"

"No, it isn't that. It's . . . . . do you think the three of you can come inside for a minute? I kind of don't want to talk about it standing here."

"Yeah, sure thing, Jaim. Hang on a sec."

And with that, Fluey went over to the Impossi-Mobile to tell Multi and Coiley what was up. Skittles began whimpering. The boys knew that was a sure sign something wasn't right. She immediately jumped out of the Impossi-Mobile, and ran up to the Phelps' front door. She began whimpering while pawing at Jamie's leg, until Jamie picked her up, and began scratching her behind the ears. The little super pup knew she needed to administer some of her "Cuddle Therapy" to him. Once the Impossibles reached the door, the four boys went upstairs to Jamie's room.

"So what's going on?" Coiley asked.

"It's been all over the news around here," Jamie said, running his hand through his hair.

"What has?" Multi asked. "We just got back into town about half an hour ago."

"My friend, Billy Bradley," Jamie continued. "We were at the arcade in the mall a couple of days ago, and he was talking about running away to Hollywood to become an overnight star. I didn't think he'd actually _do_ it, though!"

"But he did, huh?" Fluey said.

"Yeah, he did," Jamie said. "See, his mom died four months ago, and his dad started drinking, and all Billy ever does is fight with his dad, and his sister . . . . . he said he wanted to get away from all of that. His dad and his sister didn't even notice he was gone until he didn't come home two nights ago, 'cause Billy's done this sort of thing before, but he comes back after a day. And when he _does_ leave home for awhile, he always comes _here_. And I haven't seen him since that Saturday at the mall. And his sister found some of his clothes were gone, as well as his bike."

"What do you guys think?" Coiley asked, turning to his bandmates.

"Sounds like a classic runaway case if I ever heard one," Fluey said.

"You think you guys can help?" Jamie asked.

"We'd really like to, Jamie, but we can't," Multi said. "They changed protocol on missing persons at HQ. The police department was getting tired of the SSHQ 'hogging' everything that came up, so they called around, and the result was the government restricted our assignments."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Jamie asked, confused.

"It means unless it's a high profile person, we can't do anything about it," Coiley said. "If Billy were royalty or something like that, it'd be different. We're not even allowed to tackle bank robberies anymore, unless the police department can't handle it themselves."

"Oh," Jamie said with a sigh. "Yeah, that's right. Dad was talking about that the other day. I guess I forgot."

"Maybe we can talk to Big D," Multi said. "Hejust might let us get involved in this, now that I think about it. I remember reading in the newspaper that two other teenage boys went missing from around the area."

"You really think so?" Jamie asked.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask, anyway," Fluey said, shrugging.

Coiley and Multi agreed to that, and the trio (quartet if you include Skittles) left to get to headquarters. Once they arrived, they went into Big D's office to check in, and they told him about their conversation with Jamie.

"Since I read about this sort of thing going on in the newspaper, I thought maybe we should do some investigating ourselves," Multi said.

"Unfortunately, boys, I can't allow you to," Big D said. "It's just not high profile enough."

"Man, just because the mayor gets into a snit about us taking care of crime and there not being enough of it for the police department . . . . ." Fluey grumbled.

"They've been dependent on you boys for even the smallest offense for far too long," Big D said. "I need you boys on call for bigger assignments."

"Right," Coiley said, nodding. "Stuff like crooks making off with a million bucks to finance evil plots that could destroy the world, and like that."

"Yeah, and lately, all we've been called in for are small potato capers," Fluey said. "I see what you mean, chief. But you think maybe we can do a little snooping around, anyway? You know, for Jamie's sake."

"Well . . . ." Big D said, thoughtfully. "All right. I don't see what harm that would do. As long as you remain on call, that is."

"No problem, Big D," Multi said.

"Yeah, thanks, boss-man!" Fluey shouted, and the trio left the HQ building and headed for the Impossi-Mobile. They planned to rendezvous with Jamie at the arcade at the mall.

Once the boys arrived, they met Jamie at the entrance to the arcade.

"So basically, this is where you last saw Billy," Multi said.

"Yeah," Jamie said. "We were playing some of the games, then Billy got ticked off when I beat him at air hockey three games in a row, then he took some frustrations out of one of the pinball machines, and then we left, and my dad dropped him off at his house."

"That's all, huh?" Fluey asked.

"Pretty much," Jamie shrugged.

"Normally, I'd say this was a typical runaway case," Coiley said. "But judging by what Multi told us earlier . . . . . hey, Fluey, what are you looking at?"

"This guy at the arcade entrance," Fluey said. "I'm not sure, but I think he's staring at us."

"Well, you guys _are_ famous," Jamie said, shrugging. "I thought you'd be used to it by now."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm getting _really_ creeped out here," Fluey said.

Multi and Coiley looked over at the man in question. He was on the tall side, with dark hair, and wearing sunglasses. But the two Impossibles found they had to agree with their team mate on this one. He _was_ pretty creepy.

"Come on, let's blow this popsicle stand," Jamie said.


	3. No Bones About It

The boys left the arcade, and started to walk around the mall a little. The Impossibles didn't have anything better to do, anyway.

"I really don't get it," Coiley said. "Billy couldn't have gotten too far on a bike."

"I'm starting to think this could be more serious than a teenage runaway case, fellas," Multi said. "Especially since two other boys have just sort of vanished into thin air in the past few months."

"And I'm starting to think we're being followed," Fluey said, glancing over his shoulder.

"By who?" Multi asked. "A fangirl?"

"No," Fluey said. "That creepy guy I saw watching us in the arcade."

"You sure?" Coiley asked.

"Positive," Fluey said.

"Come on," Multi said. "Let's get to the Impossi-Mobile. We should be able to lose him in the parking lot."

"I hope so," Fluey said. "This guy gives me the _mega_ creeps!"

The foursome continued walking through the mall (just their luck, they had parked all the way on the other side), and they noticed this strange man was still following them.

"I don't like this, fellas," Fluey said. "And you know what else?"

"What?" Multi asked.

"Call me kooky, but I think that kook _knows_ we know he's following us," Fluey said.

"You may be right, Fluey," Coiley said. "You think maybe we can lose him by splitting up?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Multi said. "Maybe we ought to stick together on this one."

"Maybe you should switch over to superhero mode," Jamie suggested.

"Too many people around," Fluey replied, shaking his head. "We've got to do something to lose him."

"I think I might have an idea, but you guys aren't gonna like it," Jamie said. "It involves screaming teenage girls."

"If it'll get this creep to stop following us, I'm all for it," Fluey said.

"Me too," Coiley said.

"That makes it unanimous," Multi said.

"Okay," Jamie said. The boys walked to the center of the mall, which was the most crowded area, and it was packed with teenage girls. They were too absorbed in shopping, they didn't notice the boys. Jamie crossed his fingers, and took a deep breath.

"HEY EVERYBODY LOOK!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "IT'S THE IMPOSSIBLES!"

The minute Jamie yelled that, several of these girls went into a frenzy, and began racing for the boys, screaming hysterically, and pushing people out of their way, just to get near them. Of course, the boys obliged them, and signed a couple of autographs. The screaming girls put quite a bit of distance between them, and that guy. By the time the crowd of girls thinned out, he was gone.

"That's that," Coiley said. "Come on, fellas, let's head out."

"I've never been so glad to be mobbed by a bunch of screaming teenage girls in my entire life!" Fluey shouted.

The boys then left the mall, and went toward the parking lot. Fluey kept looking over his shoulder. Thankfully, it didn't look that that creepy guy was following them this time. In any case, the foursome got into the Impossi-Mobile, and drove off toward the police department to get a look at the other two missing person cases, to see if there was any connection to each other.

"Hey, wait a sec," Fluey said, as they were driving along. "I just had a thought. Jamie, that guy following us at the mall. Have you ever seen him before?"

"Come to think of it, yeah," Jamie said. "I think he was hanging out by the arcade that day I was there with Billy. I didn't pay much attention to him, though."

"Yeah, Fluey's got this inner sense of danger," Coiley said. "We'd better hit the police station. I want to see if there's anything related in these cases."

Once the boys reached the police station, the chief of police gave them the case files they were looking for.

"Tobey Wooten, age sixteen," Multi said. "Missing from Civic City. Last seen at local bowling alley with friends. It says the bowling alley was within walking distance of his house, so he and his friends were walking home, and separated. What's the other one?"

"Harvey Duncan," Fluey said. "Age sixteen, missing from Freesburgh. Last confirmed sighting was at a local mall, where he was talking to an unidentified man with a microphone. Other kids were around, and one said the man had a tape recorder in a briefcase and was interviewing a bunch of kids, but he didn't say why."

"That doesn't tell us much," Coiley said. "It doesn't look like there's any connection between the three of them, except they're all sixteen."

The boys gave the case files back to the officer on duty, and gave a description of the creepy guy at the mall. They figured the cops were going to need every lead they could get.

After leaving the police station, the boys and Skittles started cruising around for awhile. They didn't know what else they were going to do. Finally, Coiley pulled into the parking lot of Martha's Diner.

"What are you stopping here for?" Jamie asked.

"I'm hungry," Coiley said, shrugging. "And no snide remarks from the rest of you guys!"

Multi, Fluey, and Jamie said nothing, and climbed out of the Impossi-Mobile. Truthfully, they were feeling hungry themselves. They walked into the diner, and sat on a couple of stools at the counter.

"Hi, Mom," Coiley said to his mother, Martha Collins, wiping down the counter.

"Hi, guys," Martha said. "What brings you guys down here?"

"Burgers, fries, and a break from an investigation," Fluey said.

"You haven't seen anything out of the ordinary in the past couple of days, have you, Mrs. Collins?" Multi asked.

"Not me, personally," Martha said. "But Juanita told me about something she noticed."

"What was it?" Coiley asked. He knew Juanita was one of the diner's waitresses who worked the "Graveyard Shift," considering the restaurant was open twenty-four hours.

"She said a kid came in around three-fifteen," Martha continued. "Which is a pretty unusual time for someone in that age group to walk in. Anyway, Juanita said he ordered a couple of burgers, scarfed them down, and left without paying the bill. She tried to go after him, but he got away, on a yellow bicycle."

"Yellow bicycle?" Jamie repeated. "Where was it heading?"

"I think Juanita said she lost him down the road a bit," Martha said. "She said it looked like he was heading for the highway."

"Thanks!" Jamie shouted. "Come on, fellas!"

"What for?" Coiley asked.

"That had to have been Billy," Jamie explained. "He has a yellow bicycle, and his sister said it was gone. _And_ Billy said he was heading for Hollywood."

"And the fastest way to get there from here, aside from hoping a jet," Fluey said, "is on the highway."

"Still, I don't think he'd make it all the way to Hollywood on a bike in one night," Multi said.

"Maybe we should check it out anyway," Jamie said.

The Impossibles looked at each other, and agreed. Once they left the diner, they switched over to superhero mode, just in case, and headed for the highway. There wasn't anything unusual along the way, though, at least not that the boys could see. However, Skittles had another idea when the boys came to a wooded area along the way. She suddenly began barking hysterically, until Coiley stopped the car.

"What's with her?" Jamie asked.

"I don't know," Multi said. "What's up, girl?"

Skittles barked again, and went into her pointer routine, pointing toward the woods (_poing!_)

"Something tells me we ought to check out those woods," Fluey said. "Come on."

The boys got out of the car, and Multi clipped Skittles's leash to her collar, and she immediately began sniffing around. As they were walking around, all four of the boys were getting a bad feeling about this.

"Boy, these woods are creepy," Coiley said.

"Yeah, man," Fluey said. "I'd hate to be stranded here at night. Though this is no picnic in the daytime, either."

The boys continued searching, until Skittles did her pointer routine again. This time, she was pointing to a pile of dirt, that looked like it had been dug up recently.

"I don't think this is a good sign . . . . ." Multi said, nervously.

Skittles then began digging in that pile of dirt, while the boys stood and watched. After awhile, she pulled something out, much to the boys' complete horror.

"Holy Mesopotamia . . . . ." Fluey said. Immediately, he punched something into his wrist communicator. "Fluid Man to Big D. Urgent! And I mean _urgent_!"

"What is it, Fluid?" Big D asked.

"The guys and I are looking into this missing teenager thing," Fluey said, "and . . . . ugh . . . . we found something that might constitute as a lead. You might want to get in touch with forensics and send them out here."

"Forensics? What did you boys find? And where are you anyway?"

"We're in this wooded area off I-twenty-five. As for what we found . . . . . ooohhhh boy . . . . ."

"What is it?"

"A human skeleton."


	4. Cat and Mouse

Within twenty minutes, not only did the police arrive at the wooded area, but so did Dr. Phelps. Since the SSHQ was no longer authorized to handle this, Big D had called the police, and he also sent Dr. Phelps down there, because he figured Jamie would be having a nervous breakdown, thinking the remains were Billy. The police were digging around the area, trying to see if there was anything else around. Jamie was chewing his nails.

"You . . . . you think it's Billy?" he asked.

"Unless he was eaten by cannibals, I doubt it," Dr. Phelps said. "Billy hasn't been missing long enough for his body to reach this stage of decomposition. It generally can take up to a year for a body to completely decompose, sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, depending on the environment. Actually, bodies can last longer underground, but usually, after a year, all that's left is bones and teeth. Our friend here could have been here for quite some time."

"You think you'll be able to find out who this person was, doc?" Coiley asked.

"That's not for me to say," Dr. Phelps said. "It depends on two factors. One, the police labs grant the SSHQ access to the data. And two, if the police decide to bring it to the SSHQ lab for testing because our equipment is more advanced than the police department's."

And that was all there was to that. After an hour of searching the area, and not finding anything except for the skeleton, the police took the remains with them, and The Impossibles, Jamie, and Dr. Phelps left the area. Jamie was still a little rattled, and the boys really couldn't blame him, but at least knowing this wasn't Billy had made him a bit calmer.

A few days later, a couple of policemen came by the SSHQ building with the skeleton the boys had found. As Dr. Phelps predicted, they wanted the forensics team at the SSHQ to study it, because of their more advanced equipment and techniques. Two days afterward, the forensics team got the results, and gave them to Big D. He read through them, and contacted the Impossibles.

"Report to headquarters immediately boys," he said.

"Sure thing, Big D," Multi said.

Once the Impossibles reached HQ, they went up to Big D's office immediately.

"What's up, chief?" Fluey asked.

"Boys, I want to talk to you about this investigation," Big D said. "I know you're trying to help Dr. Phelps's son find out what happened to his friend, and the police know that as well, but I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

"Why?" Multi asked.

"Does have to do with the mayor halting us doing the police's work again?" Fluey asked, with a groan.

"No," Big D said. "I got a look at the case, as well as the two other cases you mentioned reading about, Multi. I have said to you boys that I wouldn't send you out on assignments I didn't think you could handle. And I don't think you can handle this."

"What?" Coiley asked. "Why?"

"We can handle anything," Fluey said. "Why don't you think we can take this on?"

"The police brought over the skeleton you found," Big D said. "They wanted our forensics people to analyze it, due to our superior equipment. We just got the lab report."

"What did you find out?" Coiley asked.

"They're the remains of a teenager," Big D said. "They were able to find out that the body was of a teenage male, approximately between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, maybe older, maybe younger. Forensics is working on retrieving DNA from the skeletal remains in order to identify who this person was, and they are also working to figure out the cause of death, but they believe this young man had been murdered."

"Yeah, considering he was in a shallow grave in the woods," Fluey said. "But why are you taking us off this?"

"This is not easy for me to explain," Big D said, massaging his right temple. "I don't want you boys on this case because you're potential victims. Unfortunately, these sort of disappearances aren't anything new."

"But we can usually handle things with our powers and . . . . ." Fluey went on.

"I know, I know," Big D interrupted. "And I know you boys can usually handle criminals with your super powers. Seriously, boys, I want you to stop your investigation immediately. I don't want to get you involved with a murder investigation. Especially if the victims include teenage boys."

The Impossibles had to agree with Big D's logic on that one, and truthfully, since finding the skeleton, they _were_ a bit apprehensive of continuing this investigation.

The next day, Fluey was shooting hoops with Phyllis in the driveway, having nothing better to do, considering crime was at an all time low (with the exception of the disappearances). He threw his basketball at the net over the garage, but it bounced off the rim, hit the fence, and bounced down the driveway, before Fluey could catch it on the rebound.

"Shoot," he groaned, as he went to retrieve it. Once he picked it up, he noticed a van pull up and park across the street, but nobody got out of it. Fluey waited for a moment or so, but nobody got out of the van. Fluey then began bouncing his basketball back up the driveway, taking some quick glances over his shoulder.

_I seriously don't like this_, he thought.

"What are you looking at?" Phyllis asked.

"That van," Fluey said. "It's just sitting there."

"So what? Maybe the guy's just trying to figure out where he is, or maybe he ran out of gas or something."

"Maybe, but I'm getting this creepy feeling about it."

Phyllis looked over at the van herself. It seemed to be pretty normal to her, so she and Fluey continued playing basketball. After twenty minutes, though, both she and Fluey noticed the van hadn't moved.

"I think we're being watched," Fluey said.

"I think so, too," Phyllis said. "And I don't like it one bit. Come on, let's go back inside."

Fluey agreed on that one. Once the siblings were inside, they watched the van from the front window, just to see what the driver was going to do.

"What are you two doing?" a voice asked.

"YIPE!" Fluey shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin. Phyllis let out a scream of her own, mostly from being startled by Fluey. It only turned out to be Big D.

"Oh, chief, it's only you," Phyllis said.

"Geez, chief, you practically scared us out of our wits!" Fluey shouted.

"Sorry," Big D said. "But what are you doing?"

"Just watching a van that pulled up across the street and decided to stay there," Fluey explained. "We were getting creeped out, so I came in, and now I'm just watching it for some reason, you know, to see if he pulls out or something."

"That skeleton you boys found in the woods kind of shook you up, eh?" Big D asked.

"It wasn't the skeleton, per se," Fluey went on. "It was the info we got on it after forensics was through with it."

"Well, I certainly can't blame you," Big D replied. "Try not to stay there all day, you two."

After Big D left, Fluey and Phyllis went back to watching the van. Shortly afterwards, it finally pulled out, and drove away. Neither of them could figure out what it was doing there, and why it was staying there so long. Unfortunately, the van was too far away for either of them to get the license number.

During the night, the van returned to the block, and parked right in front of the driveway. Since it was late, the driver figured no one would notice him, especially since he was wearing all black, including a black ski mask and black gloves. He took a crowbar out from the back of his van, and snuck up to the front door, checking all the windows as he crept. The house was completely dark. The only light on was the outdoor porch light. Once he reached the porch, he tried to open the front door, on the odd chance it was unlocked. It wasn't, of course. So he stuck the crowbar into the crack in the door between the lock and the frame, and began moving it back and forth, trying to pry it open. But the minute it opened, an extremely loud, ear-splitting beeping noise was heard. It practically woke up the entire neighborhood! The man in black immediately ran for his van, and took off as fast as he could before anyone could see him.

Inside, once the alarm had gone off, Big D, Fluey, and Phyllis jolted to attention. Fluey grabbed his transformer and switched over to superhero mode immediately.

"What's going on?" Phyllis asked.

"Obviously a break in attempt," Big D said, heading down the stairs. Fluey went into a liquid conversion, and flowed downstairs toward the door, and picked up the discarded crow bar.

"Yeah, man!" he shouted. "Check this out, chief! You'd better turn off the alarm before the neighbors complain!"

Big D nodded, and went to a control panel on the wall. He punched in some numbers on the keypad, turning off the alarm.

"Good to know that thing works," Phyllis said, coming down the stairs. "But what are we going to do about the broken lock on the door?"

"I'll have a locksmith repair it tomorrow," Big D said. "In the meantime, we'll just have to make do."

"We're gonna have to," Fluey said. "I'd better switch back in case the neighbors show up, wanting to know what's going on."

Fluey took out his transformer again, and pushed the other button on it, changing over. He contemplated going back up to bed, but truthfully, he didn't necessarily think that was such a good idea, considering the lock on the front door was broken, and couldn't be used. So, he, and Big D just stayed up for the rest of the night, while Phyllis went back upstairs to bed. Fluey was used to pulling an all nighter, especially if the Impossibles were on tour.

The next day, the Impossibles were rehearsing for a gig at a local teen club, and Fluey was telling Coiley and Multi about the break in.

"We don't think he'll try it again, after he found out we've got an alarm system," Fluey said, tuning his guitar. "And let me tell ya, that thing is _loud_!"

"Couldn't he disable it?" Coiley asked. "You know, cut the wires or something?"

"Nah," Fluey said. "He'd have to break into the house before he could try to dismantle it. We use one of the SSHQ alarms. You know Big D when it comes to security."

Coiley and Multi couldn't argue with that, and they began the rehearsal. Halfway through, Coiley and Multi noticed that Fluey had suddenly stopped playing, and singing, right in the middle of a song.

"Hey, Fluey, why'd you stop?" Multi asked.

"He's baaaa-aaaaack," Fluey said, in somewhat of a sing-song tone. Coiley and Multi looked toward the entrance to the club, and saw none other than the man who had been watching the three of them and Jamie at the mall.

"I think we're being stalked, fellas," Multi said. "I have to wonder if he might have something to do with those disappearances, and that skeleton we found?"

"Could be," Fluey said. "Though I'm not so sure about the skeleton."

"Yeah, I called Jamie about it," Coiley said. "They got more information, such as an identification. The kid's name was Michael Connors, and he disappeared from Smithtown about two years ago."

"And if we're being stalked," Fluey said, "he _might_ have been the one in the van yesterday, and the joker who tried to break in last night."

"We'd better call Big D," Coiley said, and he, Multi, and Fluey ducked backstage. Once there, Coiley contacted Big D on his guitar, and told him about their theory.

"I'll contact the police about this character right away, boys," Big D said. "In the meantime, I want you to be extremely careful."

"Check, chief!" the boys shouted in unison.

"Hey, fellas, I hate to cut the rehearsal short," Fluey said, checking his watch. "But I gotta split and head home. Phyllis and I are taking four hour shifts waiting until the locksmith shows up, and I have the noon shift."

"Did the locksmith say what time he'd be there?" Multi asked.

"Yeah, between eight this morning and seven this evening," Fluey said. "I hate these long time windows."

And with that, the boys got into the Impossi-Mobile and drove off. Fluey climbed out and headed inside. Phyllis was waiting for him.

"I've got to get out for awhile," she said. "I've been going stir crazy!"

"No problem," Fluey said. "Just so long as you come back at four. I've got a gig tonight."

"Sure," Phyllis said. "I'll see you later."

Phyllis then left the house, leaving Fluey alone to wait for the locksmith. He began inspecting the lock himself, but he couldn't make heads or tails out of it. An hour later, there was a knock on the door. Fluey walked up, and checked to see who it was before he opened the door. A man wearing a blue shirt, brown pants, and a blue baseball cap stood on the porch, holding a red toolbox. Fluey figured it was the locksmith and he opened the door.

"Hi," he said. "Are you the locksmith?"

"Yes I am," the man said. "Let's have a look here."

The locksmith began inspecting the lock thoroughly. Fluey had no idea what the heck he was doing, so he just stood back, and watched.

"I've seen worse," the locksmith said. "I'm gonna need my nameout taterneuter on this one. I don't usually use it, but this one definitely needs it. Could you go get it for me? It's in the back of my van."

"Yeah, okay," Fluey said. "But . . . . _what_ is it?"

"You'll know it when you see it, kid," the locksmith said.

Fluey shrugged, and went outside toward the white van parked by the curb. He opened the back doors, and looked inside, only to find it was practically empty.

"That's funny," he said. "There's nothing in here."

"Not for long!" the locksmith shouted.

Before the dark-haired Impossible could react, he was suddenly grabbed from behind, and a damp cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth. Fluey let out a scream, and struggled as hard as he could, but the chloroform quickly over came him, and he soon lapsed into unconsciousness. Once he was unconscious, the so-called locksmith practically threw Fluey into the back of the van, took a roll of duct tape out of his toolbox, and used it to bind Fluey's wrists, and ankles, as well as placing a piece over Fluey's mouth. Then he closed the back doors of his van, locked them, climbed into the front seat, turned on the engine, and began pulling out.

"Stupid kid," he said with a laugh. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to open the door to strangers?"

And with a laugh, the fake locksmith drove off.


	5. Call Waiting

Phyllis was typing up a report for Big D when the phone rang. Before she picked it up, she checked to see which line it was coming in on. Her phone had six lines all together. Lines one, two, and three were strictly for Secret Security Headquarters business only, and very few people knew that number. Lines four and five were designated for what she called "the insurance number," in case someone outside of the SSHQ, needed to get in touch with Big D for some reason or another. She called it "The Insurance Number" because that was the cover she used when anyone outside the agency called. She had to pretend the SSHQ was an insurance company. The sixth line was dedicated to booking agents calling to hire the singing Impossibles for a gig. This was how she could tell how to answer the phone. She didn't want to pick up the phone and mention the SSHQ to someone wanting to book the singing Impossibles for a gig. She looked over at her phone, and saw a yellow light blinking on it. Line Four.

"Security Insurance Company," she said, once she picked up.

"Yes, hello," the man on the other end said. "My name's Joe Herman, from Acme Locksmith Services. I need to speak with Mr. Davis Dawson over an appointment."

"Hang on a minute," Phyllis said, pushing the hold button on the phone. Then she pushed the intercom button on the desk. "Chief, a Mr. Joe Herman from Acme Locksmith Services is on line four."

"Put it through," Big D said. He punched a couple of buttons on his own phone in order to receive the call.

"Davis Dawson," he said.

"Mr. Dawson, this is Joe Herman from Acme Locksmith Services," the locksmith said. "I'm calling about your broken lock on the front door. I don't mean to criticize, sir, but I don't think it's a very smart idea to leave your home when you know the lock is broken. I mean, anybody could just walk in. Matter of fact, that's how I'm calling. On your phone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nobody's home, sir."

"What do you mean nobody's home? My grandson should be there. He and my granddaughter were taking turns waiting for you to arrive in four hour shifts."

"Well, he isn't here now. Look, I'd fix your lock, but I don't want to leave the keys to the new one somewhere and leave a note for you saying where to find them, just in case the guy that you said tried to break in last night comes back."

"All right, then. I'll have my granddaughter be there."

Big D hung up, and heaved a frustrated sounding sigh. Then he left his office and walked toward Phyllis's desk.

"I need you to get back home," he said.

"What for?" Phyllis asked. "I thought Fluey . . . . ."

"He isn't," Big D said. "The locksmith said no one was home when he got there. The locksmith isn't going to fix the lock while no one is home. I can't leave the office, so you're going to have to go."

"I'm gonna kill him," she grumbled as she stood up and grabbed her purse. She left the office, ready to throttle her brother for this.

Once she reached the house, she saw the locksmith kneeling on the porch, working on the lock.

"Joe Herman, I presume?" she asked. "I'm Phyllis Dawson."

"Yeah, hi," the locksmith asked, standing up. "Sorry for the phone call, but as I said . . . . ."

"I know, I know," Phyllis said. Then she uttered something that sounded like a mix between a groan and a scream. "I'm sorry, my brother was supposed to be here when you got here. I have no idea where he went, or why he left to begin with. But he was sup_pos_ed to be here."

The locksmith just nodded and went back to work. Phyllis wanted to contact Fluey via communicator, but she had to wait until the locksmith left. After awhile, the locksmith finished, and stood up.

"There ya go," he said, handing Phyllis a clipboard, and two keys. "If you need more, you can always go to the hardware place in town."

"Right," Phyllis said, signing the paper on the clipboard.

"Also, I'd take a look around inside if I were you. Just to make sure nothing's been stolen. Like I said, leaving your house with a broken lock is just asking to be robbed."

"Yeah, thanks."

Phyllis handed the clipboard back to the locksmith, and he left. Then she went inside, took her communicator compact out of her purse, activated it, and punched in the coordinates for Fluey's wrist communicator.

"Phyllis to Fluey," she said. "You'd better have a good explanation for leaving the house unattended before the locksmith showed up!"

Phyllis waited for Fluey to sign on, but he wasn't answering. Phyllis groaned.

"Oh brother," she said. "Fluey, answer this communicator right now! I know you're avoiding answering it because you know I'm mad at you! If you don't answer this call in ten seconds, you're in trouble!"

Phyllis waited for those ten seconds, and Fluey still hadn't responded. She was used to Fluey trying to avoid confrontation over the communicator when he was in trouble with his sister. And that usually just made Phyllis angrier than she already was. This time was no exception.

"I mean it, mister!" she shouted. "Fluey, come on, already. Will you _please_ answer?"

Phyllis sighed frustratedly, and closed her compact for a minute. Then she opened it back up and typed in Fluey's coordinates again. And this time, she was ready to let him have it. She was going to use the one thing that she knew would make Fluey answer, no matter what.

"Franklin Peter Anthony Manikatti McAlister Dawson, you answer this call _right this minute_!" she yelled. She knew that would get him. Fluey knew when anyone called him by that mouthful, he'd better come clean.

However this time, she got nothing. For some odd reason, Fluey was not answering his communicator. Then, Phyllis remembered what the locksmith said about someone being able to break into the house easily with the broken lock, especially if they thought it was empty. Immediately, she began searching every single nook and cranny of the house, leaving no stone unturned, as it were. That could have been the reason why Fluey wasn't around. If someone tried to rob the place, he probably caught them in the act, switched over to superhero mode, dispatched the crooks, and took them to the police station, which would explain why he wasn't home. But if that _had_ been the case, he _would_ have answered Phyllis's call.

After completed a thorough search, Phyllis opened her compact again, and typed in the coordinates for Big D's desk console.

"Phyllis to Big D," she said.

"What is it, Phyllis?" Big D asked, as he appeared on the screen of Phyllis's communicator.

"We've got a problem here," Phyllis said. "I tried to contact Fluey on his communicator after the locksmith left, but he wasn't answering. Not even after I used that mouthful of a name of his! And he isn't anywhere in the house, either!"

"Hmmm. It's not like him to just ignore it. I'm not quite sure what to think here. Call Coil and Multi. Maybe he's somewhere with them, and can't hear his communicator."

"Right, chief."

Phyllis closed the connection, and then got to work typing in the coordinates to Coiley's guitar.

"He isn't with us, Phyllis," Coiley said, once Phyllis reached him, and Multi.

"Well, he's gotta be _some_where!" Phyllis shouted.

"What I want to know is why he'd just up and leave like that," Multi said. "That's not like him, that's for sure. And he certainly wouldn't leave your house if the lock on the door was broken. So he may have a good reason."

"True," Phyllis said. "I just don't know why he's not answering the communicator."

"Well, I think we should keep trying to contact him," Multi said.

"Yeah, he's bound to answer it sooner or later," Coiley said. "Anyway, we'll talk to him about it when he shows up for tonight's gig."

Coiley signed out and then tried to contact Fluey, thinking maybe he'd answer him, instead of Phyllis, especially if he figured Phyllis was angry with him.

"Coiley to Fluey," Coiley said. "Come in, Fluey."

"I don't get it," Multi said. "He _should_ be answering. I can't figure out why he isn't."

"Maybe he can't hear it or something," Coiley said.

Fluey _did_ hear his communicator going off. The beeping noise it made was bringing him out of that chloroform induced sleep, but he was pretty hazy. As far as he could tell, he was laying inside a moving vehicle, but he was so groggy, he couldn't think straight.

"Mmmmph . . . ." he moaned, trying to get his bearings.

Fluey shook his head out to try to regain his composure. His head was killing him, and his communicator going off wasn't helping it. He tried to reach for it to activate it, but he found his hands were taped together behind his back.

_What the . . . ._ he thought. He tried to get up, but also noticed his ankles were taped together as well as his wrists, and he could definitely tell there was a piece of tape over his mouth. He began to think for a minute. The last thing he remembered was going to the locksmith's van to get him some kind of tool or another, and then everything went black. He realized what had happened, closed his eyes and let out a groan.

_Oh brother!_ he thought. _Not *this* bit again! I must have an invisible tattoo on my forehead that says "kidnap me," and only crooks can see it._

Fluey began struggling a bit, trying to get himself free of the duct tape, or at least activate his communicator. He just hoped whoever kidnapped him wouldn't hear it, but that was wishful thinking. Suddenly, the vehicle jerked to a stop, and Fluey heard a door open, and then close. Moments later, he saw the back doors open, and a strange man approached him.

_Uh oh,_ he thought. _It's that creepy guy who was watching us at the mall._

"Just relax, kid," the man said, kneeling down next to him. "Everything's fine. You don't have to worry about a thing."

The man then carefully removed Fluey's communicator and stared at it.

"Pretty high tech watch you got here," he said. He pushed a button on it, which turned it off. "Loud alarm on this thing."

Fluey shouted something, and tried to get up to get his communicator back, but he was pushed back down by this strange man.

"Now, now, now, just calm down," he said, in a tone a parent would use with a toddler. "Don't get excited. There's nothing to be afraid of. Now close your eyes and go back to sleep, like a good little boy."

Fluey stared at the man as if he were crazy. One thing was certain, he didn't want to go back to sleep. He wanted to find out what was going on. The man got up, and opened what looked like a first aid kit, and took something from it. Fluey couldn't see what it was very well, but it looked like a syringe.

"Okay, if you want to do it this way," the man said. He knelt down again, and rolled up Fluey's sleeve as far as he could. Then he stuck the needle into the dark-haired teen's arm, and injected something into his system. Fluey groaned, and suddenly began to feel sleepy. He definitely couldn't keep his eyes open for long, and he was out like a light in a matter of seconds.

"That's a good boy," the man said, stroking Fluey's hair. "That tranquilizer oughta put you out for awhile. Now let's see what we've got here. You gotta have some ID on you somewhere. I gotta know what to call you."

The man then began digging through all of Fluey's pockets, until he was able to unearth the unconscious Impossible's wallet, and his transformer. The man looked at the black box with the green and blue buttons on it oddly.

"Now what the heck is this thing?" he asked. "Ah well. I'll deal with it later. Now let's see here . . . . ."

The man opened Fluey's wallet and took a look inside. He unearthed Fluey's driver's license, and studied it.

"Franklin Peter McAlister, eh?" he said. "Bet everyone calls ya Franky, don't they? Most kids your age never go by their given names, if it can't be shortened. Let's see what else we've got here, Franky."

The man continued going through Fluey's wallet, unearthing about thirty-five dollars in cash, and, of all things, Fluey's Secret Security Headquarters ID card.

"What the . . . ." the man said. "How the heck he'd get something like _this_? Well, if this card's legit, ten to one his watch is one of those top secret spy gadget things, and so's this box. I'd better ditch this stuff here and now. I don't want those Secret Security Headquarters guys on my tail, that's for sure!"

Luckily for this man, he had pulled his van over on the shoulder of the interstate close to a wooded area. He got out of the van, closed the back doors, and threw Fluey's wallet, transformer, and communicator into the woods as hard as he could. Then, he got back into his van, started it up, and continued driving down the highway.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Franky," he said. "They'll never catch up to us, or my name ain't Jake Cooper."


	6. Escape Fail

It was almost seven o' clock, and the Teen Dance-O-Rama club was packed to the brim with screaming teenage girls, all waiting for the Impossibles to come on stage. Multi and Coiley were standing backstage, looking at the crowd through the curtains.

"It's a full house, Coiley," Multi said. "I'd hate to think what's going to happen if we have to cancel!"

"I've heard of fashionably late, but this is ridiculous," Coiley said.

Before either Impossible could say anything more, Coiley's guitar began beeping.

"Hi, guys, it's me," Phyllis said, coming onto the screen. "Any luck trying to contact Fluey?"

"None whatsoever," Coiley said. "And it's getting close to show time, too."

"I'm starting to get worried," Phyllis said. "Big D tried to contact him as well, and he hasn't answered."

"Uh oh," Multi said. "Club owner's coming. We'd better sign off, Phyllis."

"Gotcha," Phyllis said, and she ended the connection just as the club owner reached the two Impossibles.

"All right, you guys," he said. "What's the hold up here? You're on in five minutes ya know!"

"Yeah, we know," Coiley said. "But we've got a slight issue. Our bandmate isn't here yet, and we can't play without him."

"Look, boys, I'm trying to run a business here," the owner said. "And I've got customers packed in here like sardines tonight. And they're all squee-ing teenage girls!"

"Squee-ing?" both Multi and Coiley said in unison, giving the club owner a weird look.

"You know what I mean!" the owner shouted. "In any case, if you guys don't go out there, they're gonna tear this place apart! Your bandmate's got five minutes to get here, and if he isn't here by then, you guys are outta here!"

Coiley and Multi looked at each other. They had no idea what they could do, except keep trying to contact Fluey.

"Coiley to Fluey," Coiley said. "You've got five minutes to get to the Teen Dance-O-Rama, or else we lose this gig! Come _on_, Fluey, answer already!"

"It's no use, Coiley," Multi said. "He'll never get here in five minutes."

"Well, stranger things _have_ happened," Coiley said, shrugging.

Multi had to agree on that one. Besides, he figured Fluey would show up, anyway, at the last second possible. Coiley looked out at the crowd, and gulped.

"The natives are getting restless," he said. "Any luck contacting Fluey?"

"None whatsoever," Multi said. "Come in, Fluey. We've got a gig tonight, remember?"

Still no answer. By then, the five minutes were up, and the girls out in the audience sounded like they were ready to tear the place apart if they didn't get their idols out on the stage soon. The club owner, looking pretty irate, walked over to Multi and Coiley and glared at them.

"Well, boys," he said. "Is your friend here yet?"

"No, sir," Coiley said.

"Did he call and tell you when he's gonna be here at least?" the owner asked.

"No, sir," Multi said.

"If that's the case, boys," the owner said, "then you're fired. This concert is cancelled!"

And with that, the club owner went out onstage to break the news of the cancelled concert to the horde of screaming girls. Multi and Coiley left through the back door to the Impossi-Mobile. They weren't upset about having to cancel their show, however. They were more concerned about why Fluey hadn't shown up, why he hadn't called them, and why he hadn't been answering his communicator all day. Coiley called Big D on his guitar to explain the situation. He had to call the chief on his wrist communicator, since Big D usually left the office around five.

"He was a no show at the gig tonight," Coiley said. "Now _that's_ definitely odd, Big D."

"I agree," Big D replied. "It's certainly not like him to do this, I know. Have you been able to establish contact with him?"

"No. We've been trying all day."

"So has Phyllis. And myself, for that matter."

"You haven't been able to reach him, chief? Boy, it's really not like Fluey to ignore a call directly from you, is it?"

"I know. Keep trying, boys. I don't know what else I can tell you."

"Okay, chief. Coil Man out."

After closing the connection with Coiley, Big D began punching a couple of buttons on his communicator. Shortly thereafter, the image of Fluey's girlfriend, Danalleah Critch, appeared on the screen.

"Hi, Big D," she said a little surprised, as Big D rarely called her in the communicator. "What's happening?"

"Is Fluid with you?" Big D asked, coming directly to the point.

"No," Danalleah said. "I haven't seen him all day."

"I was afraid of that."

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm not positive on that just yet. Nobody has seen Fluid all day, and we haven't been able to establish contact with him. I figured he'd be with you, considering how hung up on you he is. If you should happen to see him, let us know immediately."

"Right, chief. Over and out."

Big D closed the connection and stood up, walking into the kitchen. Phyllis was on the phone with someone.

"If you _do_ see him, would you tell him to call us?" she asked. "Okay, thanks."

"Who were you talking to?" Big D asked.

"Fluey's Aunt Tillie," Phyllis said. She hung up the phone. "I called her, Daisy, Coiley's parents, Multi's parents, _and_ all of the neighbors, and nobody's seen him. Do you realize we haven't heard anything from him since noon?"

"Seven hours," Big D said. "You would think we'd hear from him by now."

"I'm starting to get worried. Especially with Jamie Phelps's friend going missing a couple of weeks ago, and that skeleton the boys found in the woods, not to mention the break in the other . . . . . ."

Phyllis suddenly stopped in midsentence and gasped. She looked over at Big D, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was.

"You don't think he could've been . . . . ." she said, nervously.

"It would explain why we haven't been able to get a hold of him all day," Big D said. "And the boys _did_ say they were being watched by someone, both at the mall, and where they were rehearsing."

"And there was a van parked right outside the house the afternoon before the break in."

Immediately, Big D lifted his wrist, and began punching the buttons on it.

"Big D to Impossi-Mobile," he said. "Come in, either one of you!"

"What's the matter, Big D?" Multi asked, coming into view on Big D's wrist communicator. "You sound panicked."

"I need you boys to track Fluid's communicator," Big D said. "And I want the two of you to remain in your superhero forms until further notice. I can't be_lieve_ I didn't think if this earlier."

"Yeah, I can't believe Coiley and I didn't think of trying to track the communicator ourselves. We'll get right on it, Big D. Over and out!"

Big D ended the communication, and sat down, massaging his temples with his hands.

"I should have thought to track him down sooner," he sighed.

"Maybe you thought if Fluey wasn't answering, the tracker wouldn't be on," Phyllis suggested.

"No, I had the agents in technology give him a new communicator," Big D said. "I just forgot about it until moments ago. The new one doesn't need to be turned on for the tracking device to work."

Phyllis nodded, and sighed. The only thing she could do now was hope Multi and Coiley would have luck tracking Fluey down. She also hoped Fluey was all right.

Fluey didn't start gaining consciousness until several hours later. He couldn't even tell what time it was. He knew it was night time, considering it was dark out, and the only light he could see from the back windows of the van were from the passing street lights.

_How long has this guy been driving, anyway?_ he thought. He groaned, and tried to shift himself into a sitting position. It wasn't easy, but he managed to do it. He leaned against the side of the van and sighed.

_Another fine mess you've gotten yourself into, McAlister,_ he thought, moving his hands around a bit. _I'm never gonna get loose without my transformer. I don't know how long it's gonna be before this joker unties me. *If* he decides to untie me at all._

Fluey squirmed a bit, trying in van to free himself. He gave up after a few minutes. He was going to have to bide his time. Suddenly, an idea hit him. He didn't know if this was such a good idea, but he had to do _some_thing before he went completely nuts. Immediately, Fluey banging his feet against the floor as hard as he possibly could. He also started shrieking at the top of his lungs. He knew that wouldn't do him much good, considering his mouth was taped shut, but he was trying to make as much noise as possible. He knew it wasn't a very smart idea to aggravate his kidnapper, but he couldn't think of any other way to get the van to stop. But it was working. Jake was beginning to get annoyed at the noise.

"Guess it would be about time for that tranquilizer to wear off," he groaned. "Calm down back there!"

Fluey continued shrieking and banging his feet. Jake knew he needed to stop to administer another dose of that tranquilizer, but he didn't necessarily want to pull onto the shoulder and risk a cop, or a good samaritan coming by to see if he needed help.

"Take it easy back there!" he shouted. "I'll stop as soon as I can find a rest stop!"

Luckily for Jake's sanity (if he even _had_ any), there was a rest area off the next exit. He turned the van onto the exit ramp, and drove straight on toward it.

"I could use a break myself," he said, checking the time on the car radio. "We've been on the road for almost eleven hours straight now."

Jake pulled the van into a parking space, got out, and stretched. Then he went to the back of the van, opened the doors, and climbed in. Fluey was still banging his feet and shrieking into his gag, and he was beginning to sound hysterical.

"All right, all right, just calm down," Jake said. "Take it easy. Just stop the screaming. I'll take that tape off your mouth if you stop yelling and carrying on like that, okay?"

Fluey nodded. Jake slowly peeled the tape off Fluey's mouth. Fluey heaved a sigh of relief. Though he wanted to scream at the top of his voice now, he decided not to. He figured this guy would only gag him again if he tried. Jake opened his first aid kit, and took a bottle of water out of it. He opened it, and held it to Fluey's mouth.

"Here, drink this," he said.

Fluey tilted his head slightly, to allow the water down his throat.

"See, there's nothing to be afraid of," Jake said. "What's the matter? Feeling stiff?"

"Yeah," Fluey said. "I can't stand these long car trips. You know, I gotta get up and move around a little."

"All right," Jake said, and he began to take the tape off Fluey's wrists and ankles. "I'll let you get up and stretch a little bit."

Jake took Fluey by the arm, and led him out of the van. Fluey stretched as hard as he could, and in one lightning quick move, he punched Jake right in the face, and took off running.

"Hey!" Jake shouted, as he fell to the ground.

Fluey didn't answer. He just kept running. The only place he could run, however, was a wooded area close to the rest stop. It was so dark, he could barely see, so he had to use his hands for guidance, pushing tree branches out of his way. He just hope that creep wouldn't be able to follow him.

"Not a smart move," he said. "But I'm desperate here. I've got to find a phone, and fast!"

Fluey kept moving, and then, he saw a beam of light, coming up from behind him. A flashlight! Fluey immediately ducked behind (or is it in front?) of a tree to avoid being spotted. He just knew it was that creep. He saw the beam move to his left, so he made a run for it to his right. Fluey threw his arms out in front of him, pushing away tree branches, trying to avoid running directly into a tree and knocking himself out. His clothes began catching on the branches, and tore off, but Fluey knew he had to keep running. Suddenly, he tripped over an above ground tree root, and fell, sliding down a slope of sorts, and crash landed at the bottom of it. Fluey tried to get up, but he couldn't. The next thing he saw was a bright light to the face, from a flashlight.

"Ah ha!" a voice shouted. "Thought you'd get away from ol' Jake, now, didn't you? Good try, Franky, but it wasn't good enough!"

Jake grabbed Fluey's arm, and yanked him to his feet. Fluey struggled, and tried to scream for help, but Jake clamped his hand firmly over the dark-haired teenager's mouth.

"You'd better knock that off unless you want another dose of chloroform, kid," he warned.

Jake dragged Fluey back to his van, and threw him into the back. Then he took out a pair of handcuffs, and slapped one of them onto Fluey's wrist, tightening it, until it was practically cutting off Fluey's circulation. Then, he positioned the handcuffs over a horizontal pole attached to the side of the van.

"I got this thing customized," he said. "That's why the pole's there. I used to work for a moving company, and sometimes, I'd take passengers to their new homes in it, and since there ain't any seat belts back here, I had the pole attached here for something for my customers to hold onto."

Before Fluey could say anything, Jake took his roll of duct tape, and slapped the end of it just below Fluey's ear. Then he wound the roll a couple of times around Fluey's head before he ripped the piece off completely.

"That'll keep your mouth shut for awhile," Jake said. "Let me tell you something, boy. Pull something like that again, and you're gonna get it a lot worse than this. So you'd better behave yourself. We've got a long drive ahead of us, and I don't want any more monkey business, you hear me?"

Fluey nodded. It was about all he could do. He was stuck right where he was.

"Good," Jake said. Then he took his first aid kit, pulled out a syringe, filled it with some kind of liquid, and tested it. Then he took a bottle of alcohol and a cotton ball. He poured the alcohol on the cotton, rolled up Fluey's sleeve, applied the alcohol, and stuck the needle into Fluey's arm. Fluey hissed in pain once the needle went in.

"It's okay, calm down," Jake said. "This won't hurt you. It's just gonna make you sleep for awhile. That's right, close your eyes, and go to sleep."

Fluey let out a moan, and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. Jake stroked his captive's hair gently.

"That's a good boy," he said. "Hopefully, he'll sleep until I get him home. I don't want anymore incidences like this one.


	7. Compiling Clues

Phyllis woke up at about three in the morning. She thought she heard something downstairs. It sounded like a woman screaming. She knew that could only mean one thing, at this hour. _The Late Night Fright Fest Double Feature._ Could it be Fluey was playing a huge practical joke one everybody by not answering his communicator? Or maybe everything could have been just a bad dream? Whatever the case, Phyllis got up, ran out of her room and down the stairs, immediately, hoping against hope that Fluey had returned home and was watching whatever schlocky B picture horror host "Count Wolfgang Amadoggus" was dishing up that night. She saw a light coming from the den, and drew in her breath. The TV _was_ on, and it was tuned to _Fright Fest_, since she heard "Wolfgang" announcing a commercial break.

"Fluey?" she asked, as she walked into the den.

"No," Big D replied, standing up from the couch. "Sorry to burst your bubble."

"Oh," Phyllis sighed. "I thought . . . . I mean, since you have _Fright Fest_ on and all . . . . ."

"I know," Big D said. "What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?"

"I heard the TV, so I came down to check. What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep. I'm too anxious for Coil and Multi to call. I've been here since midnight, watching this show. And I still don't know what Fluid sees in this genre anyway. You should hear the names of the movies on tonight. _Attack of the Ten Foot Cockroach,_ and _Octopus Man_."

"Fluey said _Octopus Man_ is more of a laugh riot than a horror film. He loves that one, it's one of his favorites."

"No wonder he's so prone to nightmares."

Big D sat back down on the couch just as _Fright Fest_ was coming back from it's commercial break.

"Just out of curiosity's sake, chief," Phyllis said. "_Why_ are you watching _Fright Fest_?"

"It keeps my mind off the worst case scenario," Big D said. "That, and the ten foot cockroach one was like a train wreck. I shouldn't have kept watching it and yet . . . . ."

"I wish you hadn't mentioned that, chief, now I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep with that kind of a mental image. Ew!"

Big D merely shrugged. It was about the only thing he could do. Phyllis sighed, and sat down next to him. She figured she could use a good laugh, anyway. It was clear that neither of them would be getting any sleep for the rest of the night.

Coiley, Multi, and Skittles weren't faring much better themselves. They had converted to superhero form, and they had also converted the Impossi-Mobile to Impossi-Jet, figuring they could get a better signal if they were airborne.

"Getting anything, Coiley?" Multi asked, scratching Skittles behind her ears.

"Not much," Coiley said. "I mean, I'm picking Fluey's communicator up, we're just not getting any closer to it. How's it going trying to get in touch with Fluey?"

"He's still not answering. I'm getting worried, Coiley. I'm also getting a bad feeling about something. All those other boys . . . . . and that guy watching us at the mall, and at our band rehearsal . . . ."

"I know what you mean, Multi. Especially since we found the skeleton of a kid our age. In any case, I can't go on piloting any longer."

"I don't know if I should take over, either. It's past three in the morning, and I'm a nervous wreck."

Coiley nodded, and he and Multi agreed to call it a night. After all, they didn't want to get into a wreck. Coiley landed the jet on the highway, converted back to Impossi-Mobile, and drove down it until he saw a sign that was advertising lodging on the next exit. Coiley stopped at the first hotel he came across, and he and Multi managed to get a room there, and, thankfully, they accepted pets, so at least Skittles wouldn't have to sleep in the car. The boys were too tired to continue, but also too worried to sleep.

"Tracking wise, Coiley, how far are we from Fluey's communicator?" Multi asked.

"Still a long way off," Coiley said. "We've got a long way to go."

All Multi could do was nod, and pet Skittles, who was whimpering. It wasn't easy, but the three of them _did_ manage to get some sleep.

Phyllis had nodded off shortly after _Fright Fest_ was over, and spent the rest of the night asleep on the couch in the den. Big D didn't have the heart to wake her up, and spent about an hour and a half flipping through infomercials, old reruns, and trashy talk shows before he, too, fell asleep on the couch, with the TV still on. They both woke up when Big D's communicator began beeping.

"Yes?" Big D asked, activating his communicator, hoping it was Coiley or Multi. Instead, it was Dr. Phelps.

"Hi, chief," he said. "Is everything okay over there?"

"What do you mean?" Big D asked.

"Well, you and Phyllis are usually in at around seven thirty, and it's ten thirty now. Usually, you call earlier than this when you need to have someone run things in the office, and since you're not here, and you didn't mention anything about not coming in . . . . ."

"Ten thirty?"

Big D looked over at the clock on the mantle, and sure enough, it was ten thirty. The chief groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Long night," he said. "Listen, Phelps. I'm having a slight personal issue that's in the process of being taken care of. I'd rather not go into it right now, however. Please let the senior agents know that I would like them to be on rotation running things down there until further notice, and get Multi's girlfriend up at the desk to fill in for Phyllis. Neither of us are coming in today."

"Right, chief."

And with that, Big D signed off with Dr. Phelps. Phyllis couldn't believe what time it was, either.

"I should've been up sooner," she groaned. "I can't believe I spent nearly all night on the couch. I hope the boys call in soon. The anticipation is _killing_ me."

Big D didn't say anything. He stood up, and went outside to retrieve the newspaper from the driveway. As he approached the paper, he heard a voice he was clearly not in the mood to hear.

"Yoo-hoooooo!"

_Mrs. Travis_, Big D groaned inwardly.

The Travises lived next door to the chief, and he didn't particularly care for either of them. Bud Travis was balding and overweight, and he always smoked cigars. He also wore loud Hawaiian shirts over T-shirts, ugly Bermuda shorts, and black knee-length socks with sandals. Myrtle Travis was the neighborhood gossip. She was always in everybody's business. She wore her hair in a huge beehive (Fluey often said she must blow her hair up with a bicycle pump), and wore heavy make-up, especially red lipstick.

In any case, Big D was not in the mood to deal with his busy-body neighbor, so he pretended he didn't hear her. He just picked up the paper, and started back toward the front door. But Mrs. Travis came waltzing over, with her high heels clacking along the pavement before the chief could even make it to the stoop.

"Mr. Dawson, I simply _must_ talk to you!" she said. "Simply the most _dread_ful thing has happened to me! I need your expertise!"

"Now is not a very good time, Mrs. Travis," Big D said. "Perhaps we can discuss it later. I've had a rough night."

"Oh, this will only take a minute!" Mrs. Travis went on.

_That's what you always say right before you waste an hour of my time,_ Big D thought.

"It happened yesterday afternoon about quarter after one, you see," Mrs. Travis continued. "I was just coming home from the beauty parlor, after my weekly appointment with Margie, you see. You know Margie down at the beauty parlor, don't you? I'm sure Phyllis knows her, at least . . . . I've seen her at the beauty parlor every now and again. In any case, it was yesterday, you remember, the day after your burglar alarm went off? Oh, the entire _neigh_borhood must have heard it go off, Mr. Dawson, I swear, it woke Bud and me up, and we _are_ such sound sleepers. Why, Margie just couldn't be_lieve_ there was a prowler in the neighborhood. My goodness, but she _was_ shocked! I'm sure you're happy to know your security system works! Now maybe I can finally convince Bud to install one for us, in case we ever have a break in. All of my valuables . . . . oh, but I am _so _glad the burglar didn't take anything of value from your house, Mr. Dawson. It's like I was saying to Margie . . . . . ."

"Mrs. Travis, I don't mean to interrupt," Big D said, starting to get impatient, "but as I stated before, I've had a _very_ rough night, and I'm expecting an important call, so if you would just please cut to the chase."

"Oh yes, yes, of course," Mrs. Travis said. "In any case, I need to ask you about car insurance. Your company _does_ carry it, doesn't it?"

"Car insurance?" Big D asked. "Don't you already have car insurance?"

"Oh, no, I've never seen the need for car insurance before!" Mrs. Travis shouted. "Up until yesterday afternoon at least."

_It figures,_ Big D thought again. Mrs. Travis drove an extremely old 1950's pink Cadillac that was in serious need of repair, and to top that off, she was one of the world's worst drivers Big D had ever seen in his life. He couldn't count how many times she'd back into his car, as well as Phyllis's, throughout the years.

"Anyway, after what happened yesterday, I just _had_ to speak with you at the earliest convenience!" Mrs. Travis continued. "Oh you wouldn't be_lieve_ what happened to me! I was on my way home from the beauty parlor, after my weekly appointment with Margie . . . . you _do_ know Margie at the . . . . ."

"We went over this already, Mrs. Travis," Big D said. Anybody could tell he was about ready to pop a vein, but Mrs. Travis was oblivious to this.

"Please get to the point of this story," he went on.

"Anyway, I was just turning into our street," Mrs. Travis said. "When all of a sudden, this big, white van comes barreling around the corner like a bat out of you-know-where! I swear, he nearly ran me off the road!"

"You sure it wasn't the other way around?" Big D mumbled under his breath.

"Beg your pardon?" Mrs. Travis asked.

"Nothing," Big D said.

"Anyway," Mrs. Travis went on, "I swear, that man nearly hit my car! Oh, I was so nervous, I couldn't think straight! So I decided to come to you to see if you can get me some car insurance, considering you _are_ an insurance salesman after all."

Big D once again groaned inwardly. He knew Mrs. Travis wasn't going to leave easily on this one.

"I'll have to check," he said. "I'll let you know as soon as I'm able, Mrs. Travis."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Dawson!" Mrs. Travis gushed. "You're _such_ a dear! Really, though, there ought to be laws in this country about horrible drivers! I can't imagine what his hurry could have been! the day before, he seemed to be perfectly content just sitting across the street doing absolutely nothing! Very strange."

"Yes, very strange, now if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Travis," Big D said, and he was about to go back into his house, when he suddenly realized what Mrs. Travis had said.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Did you say it was a _white_ van that you nearly hit yesterday afternoon?"

"Yes, but _it_ nearly hit _me_," Mrs. Travis said.

"And it was here the day before that?"

"Yes, just sitting there across the street, while your grandchildren were playing in the driveway. If you ask me, I think the driver was ogling your granddaughter, Mr. Dawson. A shameful sight, just _leering_ at her in broad daylight, too! I just _know_ what was on his mind, considering Phyllis is quite an attractive young lady . . . . ."

"Did you see what the driver looked like?"

"No, not very well, the windows were tinted. But it was definitely a man. And he was definitely watching both Phyllis and Franklin."

"And you're _positive_ this was the same van you nearly collided with?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What time was that near collision?"

"About quarter after one."

"Did you get a license number?"

"No, it sped away before I had a chance to get a paper and pencil. Not that it mattered, I didn't have one with me anyway."

"I see. Thank you, Mrs. Travis."

And with that, Big D went back inside, leaving his neighbor a bit bewildered.

Meanwhile, Coiley, Multi, and Skittles had picked up cruising in the Impossi-Jet, trying to track down Fluey's communicator. So far, all it was doing was taking them further and further down the highway.

"How far are we out of Megatropolis?" Coiley asked, considering Multi was driving.

"About four or five hours," Multi said. "Give or take thirty minutes or so."

"We're never going to track Fluey down at this rate!"

"Well, we'll just have to keep . . . . wait a minute, Coiley! We're getting close to Fluey's communicator!"

The tracker in the Impossi-Jet began beeping louder and faster. It was leading toward a wooded area right off Highway 101.

"Hollerin' hi-fi's!" Multi shouted, when he realized where they were heading. "I'm starting to get that feeling of dread again."

"Take 'er down, Multi," Coiley said. "We'd better investigate this."

Multi nodded, and he landed the Impossi-Jet on the shoulder of the road, and cut the engine. Then, after clipping Skittles's leash to her collar, he, Coiley, and Skittles went into the wooded area, using Coiley's guitar to track down Fluey's wrist communicator.

"I wish the tech crew would finish our wrist communicators already," Coiley said. "Lugging this thing around is driving me crazy. At least we're getting closer."

Skittles sniffed around, helping out in her own way. Finally, she barked, and went into her pointer routine, just as the tracker in Coiley's guitar indicated the boys were right on target. Multi unclipped the leash, and Skittles shot forward. She came shortly afterward, using her super speed, with Fluey's wrist communicator in her mouth.

"Holy horrific!" Coiley shouted, as Multi took the communicator.

"And that's not all!" Multi shouted, walking toward where Skittles had been pointing. "Look, Fluey's transformer."

"And his wallet," Coiley said, picking up Fluey's wallet, as well as gathering up several scattered cards laying around. "And his driver's license, SSHQ ID card, and his library card. If he had any money on him, it's gone now."

"It looks like this is the only trace of him here," Multi said. "Anything else, Skittles?"

Skittles sniffed around. She turned to Multi, and whimpered. That was her way of letting the boys know that she wasn't picking up anything. The boys glanced at each other.

"We'd better call Big D," Multi said. "We may need someone out here with more experience to do a more thorough search of the area."

"Besides, he and Phyllis are probably climbing the walls waiting for us to call," Coiley said, and he used the tuners on his guitar to get the coordinates of Big D's wrist communicator.

Big D was putting together a time line of sorts, from when Jamie Phelps told the Impossibles his friend had gone missing, to his conversation with Mrs. Travis when the boys called in.

"Big D," he said.

"Hi, chief," Coiley said. "We managed to track down Fluey's communicator, but there's bad news."

"Do I even want to ask?" Big D said.

"Well . . . . we found Fluey's communicator, transformer, and wallet in the woods off Highway one-oh-one," Coiley continued. "But no sign of Fluey."

"We both think foul play is in the mix, chief," Multi said. "We found Fluey's driver's license and his SSHQ ID card along with his wallet."

"I agree, boys," Big D said. "I know for a fact he'd _never_ discard his agency ID. What I want you boys to do is head back to your car, and then call the police. I'm going to send the K-Nine unit out there. I don't want you waiting around in the woods. Turn your trackers on, so they can get to your exact location. Once they arrive, report to headquarters at once."

"Right, chief!" both Coiley and Multi shouted, and Big D ended the transmission. Once he did, Phyllis came into the room.

"Did they finally call?" she asked.

"Yes," Big D said. "They managed to track down Fluid's communicator, but apparently, it, along with his transformer and his wallet, had been discarded, in a wooded area."

"That's not good."

"I know. I keep thinking about that skeleton the boys had found a few days ago. I'm going to send the K-Nine unit out to Coil and Multi's location."

Phyllis knew exactly what section of the K-9 unit Big D was going to send. The cadaver dogs. She didn't want to be around while Big D called them, that was for sure


	8. Friends in Need

After four and a half hours of waiting, the SSHQ K-9 unit finally arrived. When Multi and Coiley called the police, they sent the highway patrol out to search. When the boys saw Agents Reed and Corden, they began to grow nervous.

"The cadaver handlers," Coiley said.

"Sorry, fellas," Agent Corden said, shrugging. "But Big D sent us because he didn't want to rule out _any_ possibility, since you found Fluey's stuff in the woods there."

"Plus the fact that you guys also found that skeleton the other day," Agent Reed said. "Believe me, guys, we hope we _don't_ find anything, either."

And with that, Reed, Corden, and the rest of the K-9 cadaver dog unit went into the woods. Once they were on the trail, Multi called in.

"Hi, chief," he said. "K-Nine just arrived. But it's gonna take us awhile to get back to town."

"All right," Big D said. "Get back to Megatropolis as soon as you can. Report to my office first thing tomorrow morning. By then, I should have a missing person report filed with the police."

"Isn't this high profile enough for us?"

"It is, but I still have to report this to the police, anyway. Besides which, the more law enforcement we have involved in this, the better the chances of finding Fluid. And hopefully, alive and well."

"Right, chief. Over and out."

Big D ended the transmission, and continued working on his timeline.

"This is the latest photo of Fluey I could find, chief," Phyllis said, handing Big D a copy of _Teen Scene Magazine_ from two months ago, when the singing Impossibles were featured. "We could also use the photo of him we have in our files, the one we used for his HQ ID?"

"That one might be better," Big D said, looking at the magazine cover.

"Should we wait for Agent Reed and Agent Corden to call in before we do anything? You know, in case they've found something?"

"I'm already going to get a lecture from Chief O'Hanlon for waiting this long to report your brother missing, Phyllis. We have to act on this now. I can't wait for Reed and Corden. Who knows how long it will take before they find something? If anything."

"What about issuing an AMBER Alert?"

"I'm not sure we can. I don't know if we meet the criteria. As far as I know, we have to confirm Fluid was abducted, but we don't have any conclusive evidence of that."

"In other words, the fact that a white van was sitting across the street from our house not doing anything, the same van was seen speeding around the corner the day afterward, he was being followed by a creepy guy at the mall, and his identification was found in the woods off highway one-oh-one aren't enough to prove his was kidnapped or not."

"Don't confuse me, young lady, I've got a _lot_ on my mind right now."

Phyllis nodded and left the room. She figured Big D would need a few minutes to work on this case for awhile before he contacted the police. Once Big D had everything collected, he picked up the phone, and dialed the Megatropolis Police Department.

"Chief O'Hanlon, please," he said once someone answered the phone. Moments later, Chief John O'Hanlon, who was an old friend of the chief's (and one of the few people who knew his family secrets) was on the phone.

"Chief of police O'Hanlon here," he said, in a slight Irish accent. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"John, this is Davis Dawson," Big D said. "I need to report a missing person."

"_You_ need to report a missing person?" Chief O'Hanlon asked. "Ye _can't_ be serious, Davis! What is this, some kind of joke?"

"I'm _dead serious_, John. I have a couple of agents working on this right now, and you _know_ the mayor's new protocol about calling the police over _any_ missing persons case . . . . ."

"Ye sound a bit panicked, Davis. What's the matter?"

"My grandson is missing, nobody has seen him since around noon yesterday, and he just isn't _any_where. Believe me, we've checked everywhere he's been known to frequent. The other two Impossibles found some of his things in the woods off highway one-oh-one, about four and a half hours from here."

"Hmmm. Normally, I'd say he's just being a typical teenager and decided to run off to scare ye, but considering I know the Impossibles, and the fact that there's been a rash of missing teenage boys in the surrounding area . . . . ."

"I have a very strong suspicion he was abducted, but I don't have any hard evidence to prove it."

"Right then. I'll send someone over right away, Davis."

"Thank you. I've got some notes on this, as well. I'll go into detail over them with the officer you send over."

Big D hung up the phone and began to put his notes, as well as various photos he had of Fluey in order. Phyllis walked back into the room.

"What did Chief O'Hanlon say?" she asked.

"They're sending someone over," Big D said. "I just hope it gets us somewhere. I need you to be here, too. According to the notes I took, you, as well as Coil and Multi, were the last ones to see Fluid."

"Have you told any of the other agents yet?"

"So far, only Coil, Multi, and K-Nine. If Reed, Corden, and the rest of their unit don't find anything, _then_ I'll inform the rest of the agency."

Suddenly, Big D's wrist communicator went off. Quickly, the chief activated it.

"Big D," he said.

"Boss, we've got a situation here," Agent Corden said.

"Oh no," Phyllis said. "_Please_ don't tell me you guys found something already!"

"No, we didn't," Corden said. "Not yet, anyway. A TV crew showed up. They saw the dogs, and they want to know what's going on. The state troopers told them we were looking for a missing boy . . . . . they didn't give a name, thank goodness, but they want to put the case on the news. This could be a good break, chief. After all, Fluey's a famous musician. If we get his case on the news, we're bound to find him easily!"

"That's true. All right then, Corden. Just be careful when mentioning names, if you get my drift."

"Gotcha, chief! Over."

Big D closed the connection, and checked his notes. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Phyllis went to answer it. She looked through the peephole and saw a tall, slender policeman standing on the porch. She immediately opened the door.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Officer Calloway. I'm here in regards to a report of a missing person?"

"Yes, please, come in," Phyllis said. "Chief, Officer Calloway is here. You know, to take the report."

"Good," Big D said, coming into the room. "I don't know what O'Hanlon told you, but I have some information that may, or may not help you locate my grandson."

"I need to take some information, first," Officer Calloway said. "Standard procedure. I need to know the missing person's name, age, eye and hair color . . . ."

"I'll go make some coffee," Phyllis said, and she went into the kitchen nervously, while Big D answered Officer Calloway's questions.

Phyllis plugged in the coffee maker, put some coffee into it, and waited for it to start percolating. Then she began pacing the kitchen, nervously. She was suddenly reminded of "The Shadow Incident," which was one of the worst moments in her lifetime. The Shadow had been an old enemy of Big D's, since even before he became chief of the SSHQ. After nearly twenty years of hiding, the Shadow resurfaced, found out Fluey was Big D's grandson, kidnapped him, and held him captive on a remote island. Big D knew what the Shadow had been up to. He didn't want to kill the chief. He wanted him to suffer. If Big D, Multi, and Coiley hadn't discovered where the Shadow had been hiding, he would have definitely killed Fluey, _and_ gotten away with it, too.

Phyllis knew that was a pretty rough time for Big D, not to mention for herself, and the other two Impossibles. But she thought this had the potential to be ten times worse than "The Shadow Incident." As far as that case went, they knew who had Fluey, and why they kidnapped him. They just didn't know where he was. This time, however, they didn't know the answers to _any_ of the standard questions.

As Phyllis paced, she suddenly remembered something. She had a date with her boyfriend, Mike Rogers (the SSHQ head mechanic) that night. Immediately, she went to her the phone and dialed his private phone extension at HQ.

"Rogers' Wrecks," Mike said. "You wreck it, I repair it."

"Mike, it's me," Phyllis said, winding the phone chord around her hand.

"Hi, me," Mike teased.

"Mike!" Phyllis shouted, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Good grief, Phyllis, can't ya take a joke? What's the matter? And why are you callin' me on my private line? Somethin' wrong with your communicator or somethin'?"

"Oh . . . . . shoot! I guess I forgot about the communicator. I'm just so frazzled right now, I can't think straight. Um, listen, Mike, I can't keep my date with you tonight. I'm really sorry."

"Okay . . . . why not?"

"Uhhh, well . . . . . I just can't."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine . . . . it's just . . . . I can't go out with you tonight, that's all."

Mike didn't believe a word of this. He could tell she wasn't fine, and he knew she wouldn't just cancel a date without giving any reason.

"Is it another man?" he asked. "I mean, I'm okay with you wantin' to date other guys, it's not like we're goin' steady or anythin' . . . . ."

"No," Phyllis said. "No, Mike, really, it . . . . it isn't that. I just . . . . ."

"Then what? Phyllis, baby, I know somethin's up. You're not okay. You sound nervous, and tense . . . . . what's goin' on?"

"Oh, Mike . . . . ."

Phyllis clutched the phone chord tightly. Then she took a deep breath.

"I don't know if I should tell you," she said. "Big D didn't say I couldn't, but he's waiting for news from Agents Reed and Corden . . . . ."

"Reed and Corden?" Mike repeated. "They're part of the K-Nine unit, aren't they? Don't those two have control over the cadaver dogs?"

"Yes. Big D didn't say I _couldn't_ tell anyone, but he said he's waiting for them before he tells the rest of the agency . . . . but . . . . . oh god, I've just _got_ to tell _some_one!"

"Phyllis, tell me now. I won't tell anyone in the agency, I swear it. What happened?"

"It's Fluey, Mike. He's gone. Just vanished into thin air, and we think he might have been kidnapped. Coiley and Multi found his communicator, his transformer, and his wallet with his identification in the woods, right off highway one-oh-one. _Four hours_ from here!"

"So Big D sent out the cadaver dogs because . . . . . . oh my god . . . . . . I just remembered about the skeleton the boys found. Look, Phyllis . . . . . geez . . . . . if there's _any_thing I can do, you name it."

"Oh Mike, I don't know if . . . ."

Before Phyllis could go on, she heard the coffee machine finish brewing.

"Hang on a minute, Mike, will you?" she asked. "Please, just stay on the line for right now, pretty please?"

"Yeah, okay," Mike said.

Phyllis dropped the phone, and just let it dangle. Then she grabbed the coffee pot, and filled two cups. Then she took them out to the den, where Big D and Officer Calloway were going over the case.

"Is this the most recent photo you have, Mr. Dawson?" he asked, indicating the magazine.

"Yes," Big D said. "I _do_ have a better photo, but it's not recent. Though he hasn't changed much between when that photo was taken and now, anyway. I just don't have it here. I could get it tomorrow."

"Well, we _do_ need it as soon as possible," Officer Calloway said, as Phyllis handed him one of the cups.

"Chief, I just had a thought," Phyllis said, as she handed the other cup of coffee to Big D. "About how to get that photo of Fl . . . . Franky."

"How?" Big D asked.

"Maybe Mike can bring it over?" Phyllis asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I mean, he's at the office, and all . . . . ."

"Who's Mike?" Officer Calloway asked.

"Michael Rogers," Big D explained. "Her boyfriend. And that's not a bad idea. Give him a call, Phyllis, and tell him to get the photo from whoever's covering for me, and tell him to bring it here as soon as possible."

"Right away!" Phyllis shouted. She went back into the kitchen and relayed Big D's message to Mike.

"Got it," Mike said. "Sit tight, baby. I'll be there in no time."

"Thanks," Phyllis said. "I really appreciate it."

With that, Phyllis hung up, poured herself a cup of coffee. She was about to go into the den, when she heard a beeping noise from her purse. She walked over and took out her communicator.

"Phyllis here," she said.

"It's us, Phyllis," Multi said. "We're just checking in on what's going on there. We're kind of in the dark about the case at this point, you know?"

"Big D called the police and they sent an officer over here," Phyllis said. "I've got to tell you, Multi, my nerves are com_plete_ly shot!"

"I bet," Multi said. "We should be back in Megatropolis in about half an hour to forty-five minutes. How's Big D handling the situation?"

"Oh, about the same as ever. You know Big D. Mr. Cool-As-A-Cucumber."

"Do you want us to come over when we get back in town? You sound like you could use some of Skittles's patented Cuddle Therapy."

"Maybe after Officer Calloway leaves. I'll call you guys later."

"Sure thing. Hang in there, Phyllis. We've all got to stick together on this one. I get the feeling this is going to be ten times _worse_ than the Shadow situation!"

Phyllis signed off, and heaved a sigh. She knew Multi was right about that one.


	9. On the Road Again

_Oh, where have you been,_

_Billy Boy, Billy Boy?_

_Oh, where have you been,_

_Charming Billy?_

_I have been to seek a wife,_

_She's the joy of my life,_

_She's a young thing_

_And cannot leave her mother_

Fluey woke up to the sound of someone singing _extremely_ off key. He shook his head to regain his composure, and looked around. He was still in the van, and it was still moving, he noticed. He craned his neck to look out the back windows of the van. It looked like it was dusk, or something. It would be getting dark soon. He hoped this nut wouldn't stick yet _another_ needle into his arm.

"You holding up okay back there, Franky?" Jake asked.

Fluey didn't answer. He figured if he didn't make a sound, Jake would think he was still out cold. _Any_thing to avoid getting another shot. He was also trying to figure out what this guy was up to. He was obviously some kind of psycho. But why did he kidnap Fluey in the first place? One possibility was he was going to hold Fluey for ransom. Another was he was going to be sold into slavery. Though he had a pretty good feeling he would eventually wind up like that skeleton he, Multi, and Coiley had found, if the others didn't do something. And he'd _definitely_ wind up like the skeleton if he stepped out of line here. If there was one thing he learned from "The Shadow Incident," it was not to press his luck.

After quite a few terrible, off key renditions of traditional folk songs, the van drove onto an exit ramp, and stopped. Fluey waited. It was about all he could do. Jake climbed over to the back of the van, looked a Fluey, and smirked.

"Well, woke up, did you?" he asked. "Smart move on your part by not making any noise, kid."

Jake approached Fluey, and slowly peeled the tape off. Fluey remained silent. Jake took the bottle of water and opened it, holding it at Fluey's mouth. Fluey took a couple of drinks from it, and then turned to his abductor.

"What's your bag, man?" he asked. "What are you gonna do with me?"

"I'm taking you home, you silly boy!" Jake shouted, in a condescending tone.

"Yeah, _your_ home," Fluey said. "Not _my_ home."

"You're a pretty smart kid, you know that?"

"Well, I try. Heh, heh. Eeehhhh."

Jake laughed a bit. Fluey didn't particularly like how it sounded, though. He also didn't like how Jake was looking at him. Jake moved in closer to Fluey, and began stroking his hair. Fluey flinched, and jerked his head away.

"What's the matter, son?" Jake asked, in that same condescending tone. "You scared? You don't have to be afraid of ol' Jake. I'm your friend."

"What do you want with me?" Fluey asked, coming right to the point.

Jake didn't answer. He just started stroking Fluey's hair again. Fluey tensed up. This action usually calmed him down, but that was only when Phyllis or Big D was stroking his hair. Having some stranger do it made him incredibly nervous.

"You've got nice hair," Jake said, as he began running both his hands through Fluey's hair. "So soft . . . . . so thick . . . . . so black . . . . . so _luscious!_"

"Cut it out, man!" Fluey shouted, jerking his head away from this creep. "You're freaking me out here!"

"You don't like that?" Jake asked, without stopping. "Why not? I like it. I could just get lost in your hair."

Again, Fluey jerked his head away. Jake finally stopped rubbing his hair, but then he took hold of Fluey's chin, and tilted his head upward as well.

"You're eyes are quite attractive, too," he said, staring deeply into Fluey's eyes. "I bet you're quite the little heartbreaker, aren't you?"

"Come on, man, back off!" Fluey shouted, jerking his head away again. "What's _with_ you anyway?"

"Time to get on the road again," Jake said. "So you've got to relax, and go to sleep, okay?"

"You're not gonna stick me with that needle again, are you?" Fluey asked, nervously. "Seriously, I'll keep my mouth shut, I won't make a sound, I won't move, just _please_ don't inject me again!"

"Weeeelllllll . . . . ." Jake said, thinking it over. "Do you promise to keep still back here? Promise not to make a pest of yourself?"

"Yes," Fluey said, immediately. "I promise, I promise, I _prom_ise! I won't make a move, _or_ a sound!"

"Okay then," Jake said. "Then I promise, I won't stick you with the needle."

Fluey breathed a sigh of relief, but the relief was slightly short-lived when Jake ripped off a piece of duct tape, and pressed it over Fluey's mouth.

"Sorry, Franky, but I can't take chances," he said. "I gotta keep you quiet. Besides, I just promised I wouldn't stick ya with the needle. I never said anything about not taping your mouth shut!"

"Mmmmph!" Fluey screamed in protest. Then he began maneuvering his hands to try to reach the tape to pull it off, but Jake smacked him across the face hard, and then grabbed him by the shirt collar.

"Knock that off, you little punk!" he shouted. "Or I _might_ have to go back on that promise of mine not to use the needle again. Now you have two choices. You calm down, and keep quiet, or you get the needle. And I'll make the injection as painful as possible! Do you understand me?"

Nervously, Fluey nodded. Jake let go of him, and then used the tape to bind Fluey's ankles. Then he tightened the handcuffs.

"Now then," he said. "We'd better get back on the road. We've got a long way to go before we get home. Just remember what I said. One sound outta you, just _one sound_, Franky, then you get the needle!"

With that, Jake crawled over to the driver's seat, and started the van. Fluey didn't move. He didn't know what else he _could_ do. He knew he was still on the highway, heading to who knows where. His only means of defense was gone, and he didn't even know what was in store for him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. He knew Coiley, Multi, and Big D were probably looking for him now, but how were they ever going to find him?

Meanwhile, Officer Calloway and Big D were going over Big D's notes about the case, when they heard the sound of a motorcycle engine approach, and then stop.

"That's Mike," Phyllis said, immediately jumping to her feet. She opened the door just as Mike was about to ring the doorbell.

"Here's the photo," he said, handing it to her. "You need me to stay here? You know, moral support?"

"I'd love it if you would," Phyllis said. "I just don't know if the chief would go for it."

"Definitely not," Big D said, coming into the room. "I have enough on my mind without worrying about you two."

"Chief . . . ." Phyllis groaned.

"Anyway, Officer, here's the photo," Big D said, handing the picture to Officer Calloway.

"Thanks," Officer Calloway said. "I'll send this over to the TV station. I'm sure they'll want it for a broadcast. In the meantime, I think the best thing you can do for now is try to remain calm."

Big D nodded, and showed Officer Calloway the door. Then he leaned against it, and sighed.

"This is going to be a long night," he said.

"Is there anythin' I can do, boss?" Mike asked. "I want to help."

"I don't know," Big D said. "I appreciate your concern Rogers . . . . . even if your concerns are of Phyllis rather than finding Fluid . . . ."

"I still want to help, chief. You name it, I'll do it."

"Actually, I think there _is_ something you can do for me Rogers. Those flyers you printed during when Fluid was missing during the fiasco with that traveling carnival. I need you to update them with the information about this situation and print out as many as you can."

"No problem, chief. I'll have a batch ready by tomorrow."

Big D nodded, wrote down the information, and handed it to Mike. As he was pulling out down the street, the Impossi-Mobile drove up. Immediately, Skittles barked, jumped out of the car, and ran to Phyllis, but not at her super speed. The little super pup knew now was _not_ the time to greet her with one of her usual greetings. Phyllis picked her up, and immediately held the puppy against her cheek.

"What's the status, chief?" Coiley asked, as he and Multi walked up to the front door.

"Well, the police just left," Big D said. "They took the information, and a photo over to the television station, Agent Rogers is printing up some flyers, and we're still waiting to hear from Reed and Corden."

"And waiting for _that_ is driving the both of us crazy," Phyllis said, pressing her cheek against Skittles. She seriously needed the "Cuddle Therapy."

"That makes four of us," Coiley said. Skittles glared at him, and barked.

"Correction," Multi said, reaching over to scratch his puppy behind the ears. "_Five_ of us."

Normally, Coiley and Phyllis would have laughed at that, but they just couldn't bring themselves to do it.

"I actually don't expect Reed and Corden to call in any time soon," Big D said, walking inside. "I want them to perform an extensive search of the area where you boys found Fluid's communicator, just in case he's there, heaven forbid."

And with that, Big D left the room. Skittles began squirming a little, so Phyllis put her down. Then she took off into the house at such a high rate of speed, Phyllis and the boys didn't even notice.

"I wish I had Big D's confidence," Coiley said.

"I know," Phyllis sighed. "I shouldn't have even left Fluey alone, especially with the lock broken. It was _so_ easy for the kidnapper to sneak in that way!"

"Don't blame yourself, Phyllis," Coiley said. "Multi and I should have stayed with him."

"Right," Multi said. "We should have known better than to leave him alone, especially since there was this creepy guy following us everywhere."

"I don't know what's more upsetting," Phyllis said. "You guys finding Fluey's stuff abandoned off the highway, or knowing that whoever tried to break in here the other night had the intent of kidnapping Fluey while Big D and I were still in the house. Ooohhh, just _think_ing about that makes me feel sick to my stomach!"

"I just hope Fluey's okay," Multi said. "I hate to think what's happened to him."

"I guess all we can do now is hope Reed and Corden call in with good news," Coiley said.

Multi and Phyllis agreed. There really wasn't much else they could do.

While Phyllis and the two Impossibles were talking, Skittles had zoomed herself into the kitchen. Big D was opening one of the cabinets. He took a glass out, filled it with water from the sink, and dropped to Alka-Seltzer tablets into it. Even though he had appeared calm, cool, and collected to Phyllis and the boys, he was a nervous wreck, even more so than during the Shadow incident. Skittles whimpered, and pawed at the chief's leg. Big D bent down, and picked up the puppy, and scratched her behind the ears.

"You have a remarkable sixth sense," he said. "You always know when you're needed. You'd better be prepared, Impossi-Pup. Your services may be needed around here more than they have ever been needed before."

Skittles just whimpered, and snuggled into Big D's arms. She knew she was going to be needed. Not as a crime fighter, but for some major Cuddle Therapy.


	10. The Waiting Game

Big D, Phyllis, Multi, and Coiley decided not to go into the office the next morning. They were still too nervous over things. So Coiley and Multi went to Big D's house for their meeting with the chief, and also to offer moral support (and so Skittles could also administer more Cuddle Therapy).

"We haven't heard anything . . . . not a _thing_ from Reed and Corden," Big D said, as he began pacing the room.

"Maybe that's a good thing," Multi said. "I mean, no news is good news, right?"

"Potentially," Big D said. "But I'd still like them to call in."

As if that were a cue, Big D's wrist communicator began beeping. Immediately the chief activated.

"I hope this is either Reed or Corden," he said. "The anticipation is driving me out of my mind."

"Can't be helped, chief," Agent Corden said. "Reed and I spent the entire night with the dogs searching the area with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. Other than Fluey's communicator, his transformer, and his wallet, there's no other trace of him here. My guess whoever dumped his stuff kept going with him."

"I see. Are you heading back now?"

"Well . . . . . some of the dogs are going a little nutso here. See, there's this river . . . . or stream . . . . . or _some_thing like that where we are now, and the dogs seem to want to investigate it . . . . . we've looked down there already, though. Every inch of it. We didn't actually go _into_ the river, though, we don't have the right equipment for an underwater search. I mean, we're not authorized to send for more agents without clearance from you first, chief."

"Very well. Call whoever you need to search this river or stream, or whatever it is. Leave no stone unturned. I _have_ to know where Fluid is."

"I understand, Big D. Hopefully, wherever he is, he's alive!"

Big D then ended the connection and sighed.

"That's something," he said, picking up Skittles, and scratching her behind the ears. "But that doesn't set my mind at ease at all. I don't know if I'll be able to handle it if . . . . ."

Before Big D could go on, there was a knock on the door. Phyllis got up to get it. It was Luanne Sayers, a reporter for WHUH-TV, and a camera crew.

"Luanne Sayers, WHUH Eyewitness News," she said. "We want to get coverage of this. Franky McAlister's disappearance is a _very_ high profile case, and . . . ."

"We know," Phyllis said. "Would you excuse me for a moment? I have to talk this over with the parties involved before we give you any statements."

"Sure," Luanne said. "But you know if you get this on national television, you're more likely to find him."

Phyllis didn't acknowledge Luanne, and she went to talk with Big D and the boys.

"I'm not sure about this," Big D said. "Getting the story picked up by the newspaper is one thing. Getting it picked up on television is another. I'm a bit worried about that."

"Have you ever been interviewed on television before, chief?" Coiley asked.

"I try to avoid it," Big D said. "I _have_ been interviewed for newspapers over SSHQ matters, and in those cases, I never gave my full name. But _never_ on television. I have several enemies, and I feel this would only put Fluid, and Phyllis, for that matter, in danger."

"Any photos for the newspapers?" Multi asked. "If not, I think it would be okay, chief, as long as we don't go into details about your day job, that is."

"And this _is_ a good way to find Fluey faster, Big D," Phyllis said.

"Agreed," Big D said, with a sigh. Then he turned to Multi and Coiley. "You two better switch back to your other forms. Just to avoid questions, and most likely, they'll want to talk with Calvin Collins and Mark Mills, rather than to Coil Man and Multi Man."

"Gotcha, chief," Coiley said, and he and Multi used their transformers to switch over to their rock 'n roll forms. Once everything was ready, the group allowed Luanne and her crew in to be interviewed.

"If we're lucky, we'll be able to get this on the evening news tonight," she said. "If not, it'll probably get on the eleven o' clock news. We have to have time to edit it."

"Right," Big D said.

And with that, Luanne began the interview.

In the meantime, Fluey was still rolling down the highway in the back of Jake's van. He had been awake for at least twelve hours now, not being able to sleep. That drug Jake had given him _did_ have some advantages, but Fluey did _not_ want to be injected again. He was starting to wonder if Jake ever slept. For those entire twelve hours, Jake just kept right on driving. But this was going to change soon. Jake drove onto an exit ramp, and went directly toward a gas station.

"Just making a slight pit stop, Franky," he said, as he pulled his van next to one of the pumps. "You hangin' in there okay?"

"Mm hmm," Fluey said, nodding.

"Good, 'cause we've still got quite a ways to go."

Fluey told himself to remain calm. It was about all he could do anyway. He had been stuck in the back of Jake's van for at least a day and a half now. He wondered how much longer it would take to actually get to where they were going!

Jake crawled over to the back of the van, and kneeled next to Fluey.

"I'm gonna strike you a deal, okay, Franky?" he said. "If you promise not to scream, or make any kind of noise at all, I'll take the tape off, okay?"

Fluey nodded immediately. Slowly, Jake peeled the tape off. Though he wanted to, Fluey didn't say a word. Jake grabbed the bottle of water and allowed Fluey to take a couple of drinks from it.

"Good boy," he said. "Now, don't make one sound, or do anything that'll attract attention, you got me? If you do, then so help me, you'll regret it!"

"I promise," Fluey said.

Jake nodded, and tousled Fluey's hair a bit. Then he took a couple of pieces of black construction paper, and taped them over the back windows of the van. Then, he crawled over to the front seats, and pulled a curtain behind them, so nobody could see into the back of the van. Fluey wasn't surprised. He just leaned back against the side of the van, and sighed. It was about all he could do. He really didn't understand this Jake guy. One minute, he was acting like his friend, and the next, he was ready to tear him apart. One thing he knew for sure, he _really_ didn't like Jake one bit, especially not after he kept running his hands through his hair like he did.

Fifteen minutes later, Jake returned to the van, and started it up, pulling out of the gas station.

"All righty," he said. "That oughta satisfy this ol' gas guzzler for awhile. And I didn't hear one single peep outta you, either, Franky. You're a good boy."

"Uhhh, thanks, I guess," Fluey said.

"You hungry, Franky? How 'bout some munchies?"

"Yeah . . . . okay, sure."

Jake smiled, and drove toward a McDonald's drive through. Fluey contemplated making an escape, since Jake would have to release him from the handcuffs so he could eat. But then he remembered how he hadn't been able to get away from this creep at the rest stop awhile back, which led him to handcuff Fluey t the bar in the van in the first place. He figured the only thing he could do was bide his time.

After getting the food, Jake drove on. He pulled into a parking space in a huge parking lot, grabbed one of the sodas, opened the lid, broke open a medicine capsule, and poured the contents into the soda. Then he put the lid back on, pulled a cheeseburger out of the bag, and went behind the curtain with the burger, and the soda.

"Okay, Franky boy," he said. "Lunchtime."

"Great," Fluey said. "Just one question, though. How am I supposed to eat with both my hands cuffed to this bar? Are you gonna unlock them or . . . ."

"Heh," Jake scoffed, as he started unwrapping the burger. "After what you pulled earlier? No chance, kiddo. I'm not dumb enough to do that. What I'm gonna do is hold it up for you."

"Ummm . . . . ." Fluey said. "I don't know if I'm _that_ hungry."

"Come on, don't be difficult, Franky. Don't make me force the burger down your throat. I _can_ force your mouth open, you know. Like this, see?"

Jake took his hand, and applied some pressure to Fluey's jaw, forcing the dark-haired Impossible's mouth open slightly. Then he pulled a small piece of meat off the burger, and put it into Fluey's mouth. Then he put his hand under Fluey's chin, and pushed upward, closing the teenager's mouth. For some reason, this made Fluey tense, and he swallowed that chunk of burger whole. Jake merely laughed, and leaned in closer to Fluey's face. He was so close, Fluey could practically see his skin pores.

"Your choice, Franky," he said, practically hissing. "Would you rather me force feed you? One little-bitty, itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy bite at a time?"

"No!" Fluey shouted, nervously. He hadn't meant to yell, but he was just so nervous with Jake that close to him. It had been so sudden, even Jake was slightly startled by it. But he composed himself, and picked up the burger.

"All right, all right," he said, holding it up for Fluey. "But for Pete's sake, you don't have to shout!"

Fluey said nothing and took a bite out of the cheeseburger. He didn't like it, but he had a feeling he would like it even less having this creep's fingers that close to his mouth. Not that Fluey wouldn't _love_ the chance to bite this guy as hard as he could, but he knew Jake could get pretty violent when he was provoked, so it was best not to try anything.

"That's a good little boy," Jake said, as he stroked Fluey's hair with his free hand. Once Fluey was finished with the cheeseburger, Jake stuck a straw into the soda cup, and held it up to Fluey's mouth.

"Here ya go, buddy," he said.

_I'm not your buddy, you creep,_ Fluey thought. Wisely, he didn't say it out loud. He just sucked the soda through the straw. Almost immediately, he began to feel a little funny.

"Hey . . . ." he said, as everything began spinning. "What . . . . what's happening? I'm so dizzy all of a . . . . wh-what's going on?"

Fluey heard Jake laughing, and it seemed to echo throughout the van. Finally, his head slumped onto his chest, and he was out like a light.

"Don't you worry, Franky," Jake said, as he crawled back over to the driver's seat. "It's just a sleeping pill. A fast acting one at that. It won't hurt you, it'll just make you sleep for awhile, that's all. I promised I wouldn't shoot you with the needle, but I have to find _some_ way of putting you out before we get home!"

Jack started up his van, and pulled out onto the highway, laughing all the way.


	11. Same Old News

Hours passed. Big D, Phyllis, and the two Impossibles were practically climbing the walls. They didn't know what else to do. Phyllis went to the den to turn on the TV around noon, just to see if they were going to show the footage from the interview. The others followed. Unfortunately, the disappearance didn't make the twelve o'clock news.

"I'm beginning to get a headache," Big D said, sitting down. "When are we going to learn something?"

"Probably when the divers get to that river," Coiley shrugged.

"I wish we had some more clues to work with," Multi said. "Skittles couldn't even pick up the trail after we found Fluey's things."

"I know," Big D said, as Skittles jumped into his lap. "All we have to go on is a white van was seen the afternoon of the break in, and the day Fluid went missing, thanks to, of all people, Myrtle Travis next door. But other than that . . . ."

The others agreed. Phyllis heaved a sigh, and sat down on the couch. Coiley sat down next to her. Skittles whimpered. Multi leaned over and scratched his puppy's head.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

"About two days," Big D said. "If we don't get any more clues, I'm not sure how we'll be able to . . . . ."

Before Big D could go on, his wrist communicator began beeping. Immediately, he activated it, and Agent Reed came onto the screen.

"We found out why the dogs were going crazy at the river, Big D," he said.

"Don't tell me," Big D said. "_Please_ _don't_ tell me you've found another body."

"We found another body," Reed said.

"Itold you not to tell me," Big D groaned.

Coiley, Multi, and Phyllis immediately stood up upon hearing this. Big D looked at them, and took a deep breath. He really dreaded asking, but he just _had_ to know.

"Reed," he said, trying to remain calm. "I need you to tell me. And give it to me straight. Is the body you found . . . . ."

"No," Reed said, immediately. "Definitely not, Big D. No chance at all. It's a teenage boy all right, but it's definitely _not_ Fluey."

"Thank heavens," Big D said, heaving a sigh of relief. "But how can you be sure already?"

"Unless Fluey dyed his hair blond and grew about a foot tall in the last two days, it ain't him," Reed said. "This kid's about six feet tall, and like I said, blond. I think he's one of the kids from the police's file . . . . . the one missing from Civic City. Definitely looks like a murder case if ever I saw one, chief. He was at the bottom of the lake, inside a black trash bag. I'm not gonna go into details about what the poor kid's body looks like, though. Too gruesome."

"I don't even think I _want_ to know, Reed," Big D said. "Is that all that's there, or do you think the dogs have found something else?"

"Not a thing," Reed said. "They're done here. We'll be back to HQ as soon as we can, boss."

"Very good," Big D said, and he ended the transmission.

"Good news, bad news time, eh, chief?" Coiley asked.

"Yes," Big D sighed. "The dogs found another body, but it wasn't Fluid."

"That's good," Multi said.

"Of course, that just means Fluid is still somewhere, and potentially in big trouble," Big D continued. "And we don't even know if he's still alive or not."

"That's bad," Coiley said.

"We have to get the agents involved in this now, chief," Phyllis said. "We can't wait any longer."

Big D agreed, and the group started for the SSHQ building. Once they reached it, Phyllis went to the communications department and called an agency-wide meeting, and they all gathered in the auditorium. Upon arrival, Mike saw Phyllis looking extremely nervous, and he ran to her.

"Is this meetin' about what I think it is?" he asked.

"It is," Phyllis said. "Corden and Reed found another body of a teenage boy."

"Oh no. Don't tell me it was Fluey!"

"No, thank goodness. But Reed thinks it's one of the boys that's been reported missing. You know Fluey's the fourth teenage boy to disappear from the area in the past few months. We just _know_ he's been kidnapped, but we don't have enough evidence. Big D's going to let the agency in on this now."

"Hang in there, baby. I'm sure everything's gonna work out."

"I hope so."

Mike took Phyllis's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Then the two of them went to grab a couple of seats for the meeting. Multi and Coiley caught up with Shawn, FG, and Danalleah, and sat with them.

"What's going on, you guys?" Shawn asked. "We haven't seen you in two days!"

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Danalleah asked. "I just know it is. I'm getting these vibes."

"Sit down, Danalleah," Multi said. "This is probably going to shock you . . . . ."

"Oh no . . . ." Danalleah said. "Where's Fluey?"

Before Multi or Coiley could answer, Big D began banging a gavel on the podium on the stage.

"May I have your attention please!" he shouted. Then he waited for the room to quiet before continuing. However, he wasn't quite prepared for this one, which was unusual for him. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"As you may, or may not know," he said. "In the past month or so, there have been recent reports of adolescent boys apparently vanishing into thin air, as it were. Four sixteen-year-old boys, to be exact, have disappeared from the area, two of them from Megatropolis. The police have given us complete access to these cases, and . . . . ."

"It's nothing new, Big D!" Agent Caufield shouted out. "You know how many kids go missing a year in the US? Over seven hundred thousand. And most of the time, they either run away from home, or they're taken by a non-custodial parent. This really isn't anything we specialize in, unless it's a high profile case, like the kid of a world leader or something like that. Can't the police take care of it? Why are you dragging us into this, anyway?"

"I am aware that this is nothing new, Caufield," Big D said. "However, I find it only fair to warn you that you are dangerously close to repeating your behavior from the Shadow incident . . . . ."

"All I said was . . . . ." Caufield started. Then he realized the reference. Big D hardly ever mentioned the Shadow incident.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Chief, do you mean to tell us . . . . . ."

"Yes," Big D said. "The fourth young man to disappear was Agent Fluid Man."

"What?" one agent shouted.

"You're kidding!" another yelled.

"What happened?" another asked.

"This _can't_ be a runaway case," another said. "Fluey doesn't have any reason to run away from home!"

Voices exploded everywhere, all talking at once. Big D banged his gavel on the podium to call their attention, but it wasn't working. Mike got up, and walked up on stage.

"I've got a full proof method of gettin' their attention, boss," he said. "Hold your ears."

Big D stepped away from the podium for a moment, and covered his ears, giving Mike a strange look. Mike cracked his knuckles, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and whistled, as loudly and as shrilly as he possibly could into the microphone. This also resulted in some killer feedback as well, which got everybody's attention.

"HEY YOU GUYS!" Mike screamed. "THE MAN'S TALKIN' HERE!"

"Thank you, Rogers," Big D said, throwing Mike a glare. "I'll certainly know who to call if ever I feel the urge to suddenly go deaf."

"Works every time," Mike said, with a shrug.

"In any case," Big D went on. "I can't tell you exactly what happened, because I don't _know_ what happened. Agents Coil and Multi, along with Phyllis and myself, believe Fluid was abducted, but we don't have any solid proof of this speculation."

"Apparently, his stuff thrown out on the highway ain't proof enough for the cops, huh, boss?" Mike asked.

"Apparently not," Big D said. "Now, Fluid has been missing for two days, and I've already had the K-Nine unit search the area where his things were found, and they've uncovered nothing . . . . . ."

"Except a body," Coiley said. "But it wasn't Fluey's body. Agents Reed and Corden think it's one of the other kids that went missing."

"As of this moment, I only want the K-Nine unit on the case," Big D said. "I'm not making the mistake I made during the Shadow incident again. However, if anyone has anything that may constitute as a lead, please let me know at once. I don't care how little it is. I don't care how insignificant you may think it is. It may just be the lead we're looking for in order to locate Fluid. Meeting adjourned."

Big D whacked the gavel on the podium, and the agents began filing out of the auditorium. Immediately, Dr. Phelps pushed his way through the crowd, and approached Big D.

"Chief, I wanted to ask you," he said. "I don't have anything that constitutes as a lead . . . . at least I don't think . . . . but you know the boys were helping my son, Jamie, look for his friend, right? Billy Bradley?"

"Yes, Phelps," Big D said. "I remember that. This is why I asked them to stop their investigation, after they found that skeleton."

"Yeah . . . . . but do you think Billy's disappearance and Fluey's disappearance could be related?"

"It's hard to say. I'm not positive on that one, since the disappearances were at least two weeks apart from one another."

"Well, since Jamie had been with the Impossibles throughout their short investigation . . . . . and since he was with them when they found the skeleton . . . . . you think maybe he could have . . . . ."

"You may be onto something there, Phelps. Have your son come talk to me at his earliest convenience. He may be able to shed some light on the case."

"Right, chief!"

"In the meantime, I'd like you to take charge of things for the rest of the day. I'm too nervous to think straight."

"Understandable, Big D."

Big D nodded, and he, Phyllis, Multi, and Coiley left HQ. They went back to the chief's house, and sat around waiting.

"This isn't going to do anything, chief," Multi said. "I think Coiley and I should go out and search."

"I know," Big D sighed. "And normally, I'd allow you to, but circumstances being what they are . . . . ."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Coiley said. "You don't necessarily want to send us out after a person who's targeting teenage boys."

"Exactly," Big D said.

That was all there was to that.

Five o' clock rolled around, and the group turned on the TV to catch the news. Fluey's disappearance was the first story on the news that night.

"Police are searching for yet another missing teenage boy," the anchorwoman said. "Making this the fourth one to disappear from the tri-county area, two of which were from Megatropolis. We take you now to Luanne Sayer, and her report."

"Thank you, Mary," Luanne said as she came onto the screen. "I'm here live at the Megatropolis Police Department, where the search for the two boys missing from Megatropolis, William Bradley, and Franklin Dawson, is going on strong."

"What's with the Franklin Dawson jazz?" Coiley asked.

"Maybe they figured they'd call him that to avoid a media frenzy," Multi said, shrugging.

"Whereas no clues over Billy Bradley's whereabouts have surfaced," Luanne continued, "there has been something located in Franklin Dawson's disappearance. His wristwatch and wallet, complete with his identification, have been found off highway one-oh-one."

"Turn it off," Big D said. "They're just telling us what we already know, and I don't want to hear any more of it."

"Right, chief," Phyllis said, as she turned off the television. The minute she did, the phone rang. She got up, and grabbed it.

"Hello?" she asked. "Oh, hi Mrs. Hunter. You did, huh? Oh, we're hanging in there. It's about all we can do. Well, not unless you can tell us anything about this. We're don't even know what happened. Yeah, thanks. Bye."

"Who was that?" Coiley asked.

"Mrs. Hunter," Phyllis said. "She lives down the block. She saw the news story and called to ask how we were."

The phone rang again, and Phyllis picked it up. This time, the caller was the neighbors from across the street, basically wanting to know the same thing Mrs. Hunter wanted to know. Once Phyllis was done with them, the phone rang a third time. While Phyllis was busy with the phone, there was a knock on the front door. Since Phyllis was occupied, Big D went to answer it. Just his luck, it was Bud and Myrtle Travis.

"Oh, Mr. Dawson!" Mrs. Travis shouted. "Bud and I just saw the news and we _had_ to rush right over!"

"We didn't _have_ to," Mr. Travis said. "Myrtle insisted on it."

"Oh, you poor dear, I just couldn't be_lieve_ it when I saw it!" Mrs. Travis shouted.

"Yes, it was quite a bit of a shock to us as well, Mrs. Travis," Big D said. "Especially when we found out about it."

"You got any idea what happened?" Mr. Travis asked.

"Unfortunately no," Big D said. "Other than the fact I strongly suspect he was abducted, but I'm not entirely positive when the abduction took place."

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Travis shouted. "Do you think it might have been some time when that van nearly ran me off the road?"

"I do," Big D said, nodding. "Mrs. Travis, if you could do me a favor, and tell me what the driver looked like . . . . ."

"Oh, I don't really remember," Mrs. Travis said. "I mean, I didn't get a good look at him . . . . . and the day before, I didn't see him very well, either . . . . . and here I was thinking that man was staring at Phyllis, when all the while he was watching Franklin . . . . . oh, I'd never even _dream_ he'd be stalking that poor boy!"

"Yes, well . . . ." Big D said, not quite sure how to respond.

"Look, Dawson, if you need us to do anything," Mr. Travis said. "Anything at all, just give us a ring, all right? Day or not, just call us."

"Thank you, Mr. Travis," Big D said. "I appreciate it."

"The _very_ idea!" Mrs. Travis shouted, as she and her husband left. "Terrible things like this happening your town! Why, it isn't even safe to let your children play in their own backyards anymore without having to worry about . . . . . ."

Big D closed the door without hearing the rest of Mrs. Travis's rant. He walked into the den, just as Phyllis hung up the phone.

"We've been getting calls from nearly everyone on the block," she said. "If that phone rings again, I'm seriously going to consider unplugging it so we can get some peace!"

"I just wish someone would call to give us something useful," Multi said. "All we've gotten were people wanting information."

"It's like people don't want to get involved," Coiley said.

"Other times, they don't think they've seen anything that matters," Big D said. "But I refuse to give up on this."

"So do we, chief," Multi said. "No matter what, we're not going to give up until we find Fluey!"


	12. A Safer Community

Fluey stirred, and began waking up. It was practically pitch black outside now, which made him wonder how long he had been out cold.

"Ooohhh . . . ." he groaned.

"Almost there, buddy," Jake said from the front seat. "You all right back there?"

"Uh huh . . . ." Fluey mumbled.

Truthfully, Fluey felt groggy, and sick to his stomach. His head was pounding, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep that cheeseburger down. Jake glanced in his rear-view mirror at Fluey. He could tell the dark-haired teenager wasn't feeling so good, and he wondered how long he'd be able to hold out. He decided not to risk it. He didn't want to be spending too much time cleaning out the back of his van. He stopped the van, crawled over to the back, used a knife to cut the tape around Fluey's ankles, and unlocked one of the cuffs. To make sure Fluey didn't try to make a run for it, he handcuffed the dark-haired Impossible's hands behind his back, and guided him out the back doors of the van. Once outside, Fluey couldn't hold out any longer, and immediately began bringing up the contents of his stomach.

"Probably just a side effect from that sleeping pill," Jake said, as he watched.

Fluey didn't respond. He just coughed, gagged, and continued throwing up for at least five minutes. By the time he was finished, he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Got it all out of your system?" Jake asked.

"Yeah . . . ." Fluey said, nodding.

"Okay," Jake said. He then picked up his captive, and carried him back inside the van. Once he put Fluey down, he grabbed an old towel, and spread it across the floor.

"If you feel like you're gonna throw up again, try to do it on the towel," he said. "We're almost home, anyway."

"Okay . . . ." Fluey said, a bit drowsily. Then he yawned, and fell into a deep sleep.

Fluey woke up again several hours later. By now, it was just about sunrise.

"Oooohhhh . . . . ." he moaned, as he rolled over onto his back. "My aching head!"

Fluey moaned, and put his hand to his forehead, trying to ease his headache. It was then he noticed his hands were no longer restrained. He also noticed he wasn't in Jake's van anymore. He was laying on an old mattress in some kind of room. Probably a room meant for a baby or a toddler, considering the old, dingy wallpaper featured several nursery rhyme characters, done in 1950's "cutesy" style. The floor was carpeted, but threadbare. In the dim light, he couldn't tell if it was white, or gray, or if it used to be white and was now gray due to years of neglect. There were two windows in the room, but both of them had bars on them, like a prison cell. Not that it surprised Fluey. He figured Jake wouldn't just drop him in a room unrestrained, even if he was unconscious. Fluey stood up, and tried to walk around a little, but he didn't get very far when he felt something pull his leg, causing him to trip and fall to the floor.

CRASH!

"Aaahh!" he shouted once he landed. "What the . . . . ."

When Fluey sat up, he noticed he _was_ restrained, after all. There was a metal cuff around his left ankle, which was attached to a chain, and the chain was attached to one of the bars on the window with a solid steel lock.

"Rats," he said. He managed to stand up, and went back to the mattress. He didn't know what else he could do. As he was laying there, he heard someone fiddling with a latch on the other side of the door. Shortly afterward, it opened, and Jake walked into the room.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said.

_Oh brother, _Fluey thought.

"How are we feeling this morning?" Jake asked, in that annoying condescending tone.

"Okay, I guess," Fluey said.

"Good," Jake said. "Good, good, good."

Jake walked over to the window, and pulled the chain a bit, making sure it was secure. Then he kneeled next to the mattress, and pulled Fluey into a sitting position, holding the teenager's hand in his own. Fluey began to get nervous.

"Now, there's no cause for alarm," Jake said, as he sat down on the mattress next to Fluey. "Everything's going to be fine. Just relax . . . ."

Fluey found he couldn't relax, not with Jake this close to him. Jake put his arm around Fluey's shoulders, and began stroking his hair with his other hand. He was running his fingers through it again. Fluey squeezed his eyes shut.

_Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!_ he wanted to shout. But for some reason, he felt like he couldn't. His jaw was suddenly frozen.

Jake snickered, and began to push Fluey into a laying position on the mattress.

"Let's play a little game, Franky," he said, unbuttoning Fluey's jacket. "And I know you'll like it. I know you will. Little heart-throb like you . . . . I know you've done this before."

"Done what before?" Fluey asked, as he started to sit up, but Jake pushed him down.

"You'll see," Jake said with a smirk. He snickered again, and began loosening his belt.

_Holy Mesopotamia . . . . ._ Fluey thought, and he practically began sweating bullets. He had to do something, and fast.

"No!" he shouted, giving Jake a good, hard kick in the groin.

Jake groaned, but he tried to go at Fluey again. Fluey gave him another kick. And this time, he kept right on kicking at him. He managed to sit up, and he began hitting at him as well. Jake grabbed him by the arms, and tried to force Fluey down, but Fluey kept right on kicking and hitting. He also managed to grab hold of Jake's hair and he began pulling and scratching at his face.

"Hold still, you little . . . ." Jake growled.

"No!" Fluey yelled, putting up quite a fight. "Let go of me! Don't touch me!"

"Franky . . . . ." Jake said, in a warning tone of voice. "If you don't shut up, I'm gonna . . . . ."

"HELP!" Fluey screamed at the top of his voice. "Somebody please help me!"

Jake couldn't handle this anymore. He punched Fluey across the mouth, and slammed him against the wall, as hard as he could. Though a bit dazed, Fluey continued to fight him off.

"Somebody help!" he yelled.

"That ain't gonna do you no good, pal!" Jake shouted. "Nobody's gonna hear you!"

"Let go of me! Let go of me!" Fluey yelled, grabbing, kicking, and making a general nuisance of himself. "Someone please! HELP!"

Jake finally had enough. He threw Fluey to the floor as hard as he could. Then he took off his belt. Fluey got ready to fight him off again, but Jake took the belt, and began hitting Fluey with it, as hard as he possibly could.

"Maybe this'll teach you to behave!" he yelled as he struck.

Fluey tried hard not to scream, but it didn't work out so well. He finally began yelling in pain. And even then, Jake wouldn't let up. Finally, he stopped, and put his belt back on. Then he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He was no longer in the mood to "play," much to Fluey's relief. Fluey crawled over onto the mattress, breathing heavily. He was exhausted, and felt a little sick to his stomach again.

Back in Megatropolis, Big D was sitting at his desk, chewing on the stem of his pipe, and going through some criminal dossiers, somewhat aimlessly. He and Phyllis spent practically the entire night before answering phone calls from neighbors and friends who saw the story on the news. After a few minutes of looking at the files, he pushed the button on his intercom.

"Phyllis, please send Critch up here," he said. "I need to speak with her, and the boys."

"Yes, chief," Phyllis said.

While Phyllis went to the communications office, Big D tuned his desk console to Coiley's guitar.

"What's up, Big D?" Coiley asked, once he appeared on the screen.

"I want you and Agent Multi in my office ASAP," he said. "I need to speak with both of you, and Critch, for that matter."

"Yes sir!" both Coiley and Multi shouted.

The minute Big D signed off, there was a knock on his office door.

"Come in," he said. The door opened, and Danalleah walked in, slightly nervous.

"You wanted to see me, Big D?" she asked.

"I did," Big D replied, gesturing toward the couch in the office. "Have a seat. Coil and Multi should be here within fifteen minutes."

Danalleah sat down on the couch, and folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't help it, but she always found herself to be extremely nervous whenever she was around the chief by herself. She figured it was because she knew Big D didn't particularly like her, and he didn't necessarily approve of her relationship with Fluey, all because her mother was a criminal.

"Anything new in the mail room?" Big D asked.

"No, sir," Danalleah said. "I mean, nothing that constitutes as a ransom note, if that's what you mean. But we're looking. We're going through the incoming mail with the proverbial fine tooth comb."

"Good," Big D answered.

After a few minutes, Multi, Coiley, and Skittles entered Big D's office. Skittles barked, and jumped over to Danalleah's lap, to give her a greeting. Danalleah then stood up, and walked toward the chief's desk.

"So what do you want to see us for, chief?" Coiley asked.

"I've been thinking," Big D said. "Considering there wasn't that much of a gap between Billy Bradley's disappearance and Fluid's disappearance, I began to wonder if they were related. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I don't want to rule out any possible detail. I want you three to do something for me."

"Anything, Big D," Danalleah said.

"I want you boys to head toward State Prison and talk to the Spinner, Televisitron, and Mr. Instant," Big D continued. "Critch, I need you to head to the city pound and speak with your mother. As far as I know, those are the only criminals you Impossibles have dealt with that know Fluid is my grandson."

"Oh, I completely forgot about that!" Danalleah shouted.

"Yeah, that's right," Multi said. "The Shadow found out, and busted them out of prison. He must have told them . . . ."

"Exactly," Big D said. "I want you three to find out if they told anyone while they were incarcerated."

"Right, chief!" Coiley shouted. He, Multi, Danalleah, and Skittles saluted, and then left the office.

Danalleah went to the city pound almost immediately. Once there, she went into a room filled with cats. In one of the cages, she found her mother, Cronella Critch, the Tricky Witch, or rather, witch-turned-cat.

"Hello, Mother," Danalleah said.

"Hmph," Cronella groaned. "What is it _now_, Danalleah?"

"Well, we were wondering something down at headquarters," she said. "Remember the Shadow incident?"

"Yes," Cronella said. "I remember. What about it?"

"Did the Shadow tell you anything about . . . ."

"Yes, he told us your boyfriend is the grandson of the chief. Why?"

"Well, did you tell anyone that?"

"Now who would I tell, girlie? I'm in a room full of _cats_ for crying out loud! Don't you have any brains, Danalleah? Or did you bleach the last of them the last time you did your hair?"

"Right, Mother. Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"So what else is new?"

Danalleah immediately left, without another word. She was used to Cronella insulting her.

While Big D was waiting to hear from Danalleah and the boys, his intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Chief, Mayor Whimbelldon is here to see you," Phyllis said.

"Send him in," Big D said, with an exasperated sigh. He knew the outcome of this was not going to be good.

Moments later, the mayor of Megatropolis, Wendell Whimbelldon (or as a good chunk of the city called him, "Mayor Wimpy"), came into the office, and it would appear he was a bit nervous about something.

"I saw the news last night," he said. "Terrible, terrible news! Simply awful! Dreadful, dreadful!"

"You're telling me," Big D mumbled under his breath.

"A thing like this could just positively _taint_ our fair city for _life_, do you realize that?" the mayor went on. "How would it look to the tourists if they knew Megatropolis was over run with crime?"

"I wouldn't say we were overrun with crime, mayor," Big D said. "The boys were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Well, something _must_ be done about it! And I intend to do something!"

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Mayor?"

"I'm passing a new law to make the city streets a safer place for our fair city's children!"

"New laws?"

"Of course, of course, of course! I have a copy of them right here. I'm going all around our fair city, giving these new laws to all of the city's law enforcement agencies . . . . . I figure I'd start here, since this agency is the city's largest law enforcement agency . . . . ."

"We're more of a government agency, Mr. Mayor. I get my orders from Washington, sir."

"Well, now you're getting orders from me! Since you work in my fair city of course . . . ."

Big D sighed. It was pointless to argue with the mayor. Nobody could ever get anywhere arguing with him. He just looked at the new laws the mayor was passing, and he couldn't believe what he was reading. The laws including instigating eight o'clock curfews for anyone under the age of twenty-one, teenagers were no longer permitted to take part time jobs after school, little league teams and scout troops were forced to disband, and some other items.

"Are you mad?" Big D asked. "These laws are downright ridiculous!"

"I've done my research," the mayor said. "I'm also having the arcade in the mall closed, and all male teachers at the schools suspended. Do you realize that many teachers become romantically involved with their students?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Big D said, trying to keep his temper. "But, as the saying goes, one bad apple does _not_ spoil the whole . . . . . ."

"Never mind, never mind," the mayor interrupted. "Just make sure these laws are enforced. We _must_ keep our fair city safe for the children! All those future voters!"

Big D heaved another sigh, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He usually tuned out "Mayor Wimpy" whenever he started rambling about the voters. He never understood _why_ Whimbelldon always won the mayoral election in Megatropolis, but he did. Big D never voted for him, that was for sure.

"Any road," the mayor continued, "with these new laws, I'm afraid some changes are going to have to be made here at the Secret Security Headquarters, you understand."

"What kind of changes?" Big D asked.

"Well, since I've passed this law about no one under the age of twenty-one having a part time job . . . . " the mayor said.

"Yes?" Big D asked. He didn't like where this was heading.

"I need you to . . . . . disband the Impossibles."

"_WHAT?_"

Big D jumped to his feet and slammed his fists down on his desk so hard, everything on it shook a little.

"You expect me to fire my best agents?" he asked. "The best crime fighters Megatropolis has ever seen? Are you out of your mind?"

"Well . . . . . I mean, they _are_ teenagers, after all . . . ." the mayor said, nervously. "And since it's obvious that there's someone out there who's targeting teenage boys . . . . . and the fact that two of the missing teenage boys have turned up dead . . . . ."

"Mr. Mayor, you have _got_ to be out of your mind if you think I'm going to . . . . ."

"Do you want this psycho to target _them_, Big D? Would you want _that_ on your conscience?"

Big D stopped. Then, slowly, he sat back down and sighed. Mayor Whimbelldon had him on that one. Big D certainly did not want the other two Impossibles to disappear on him like Fluey had.

"Very well," he said, reluctantly.

"Good, good, good," the mayor said. "Well, I must go. Lots of other places to spread the word, and make our fair city a safer community!"

And with that, Mayor Whimbelldon left. Big D began massaging his forehead.

"Is it any wonder why I _didn't_ vote for him?" he said. Then he pushed the button on his intercom.

"Yes, chief?" Phyllis asked.

"Send for Agent Fluid Girl and Miss Smith," Big D said. "And let me know when Coil, Multi, and Critch return. I have something to tell them, and I'd rather do it all at once. I hate to do it, but it has to be done."


	13. Lost and Found

Fifteen minutes later, Coiley, Multi, Danalleah, FG, and Shawn were gathered in Big D's office. Big D had a grim look on his face, and he was drumming his fingers on top of the desk.

"What's the matter, Big D?" Multi asked. "You look a little nervous about something."

"I have to tell you all something serious," Big D said.

"Does it have to do with Fluey?" Coiley asked, becoming nervous himself.

"No," Big D said. "But, speaking of which, before I say anything more, I want to know what you three were able to find out."

"Well, it was a bust," Coiley said, shrugging. "Televisitron, the Spinner, and Mr. Instant _did_ know Fluey's your grandson, chief, but they didn't say a word to anybody else."

"And we made them take a lie detector test to be positive," Multi said. "They passed."

"Mother said she didn't tell anyone, either, Big D," Danalleah said. "She said there's no one to tell, since she's at the pound."

"I see," Big D said. "Well, that ends _that_ theory. But there's a slight problem with the investigation."

"What is it?" FG asked.

"Mayor Whimbelldon came by, and he informed me of some new laws he was passing," Big D said, handing the paper with the new laws on them to Coiley. The quintet looked over them, and then they gave Big D a weird look.

"Is he serious?" Shawn asked.

"Unfortunately, he is," Big D said. "I have a hunch he got calls from several irate parents over the missing boys."

"My stepmother isn't going to like this one bit," Multi said.

"Why not?" Shawn asked.

"She teaches seventh grade English," Multi said. "If they ban _all_ male teachers, then they might have to ask her, and the teachers that are left, to teach extra classes, to avoid having to hire new teachers."

"My mom isn't going to be happy, either," Coiley said. "A lot of her afternoon and weekend staff and _all_ of the busboys are high school kids."

"It gets worse," Big D said. "According to these laws, I am no longer permitted to keep the five of you on payroll."

"WHAT?" Coiley, Multi, and the three girls shouted in unison.

"You mean you're firing us?" Shawn asked.

"No," Big D said. "I am _not_ firing _any_one. I don't care what the mayor's new laws are. The Impossibles are the best agents I have, and I absolutely refuse to let them go. As for you girls . . . . ."

"You can't fire us, chief," Shawn said. "You never hired us to begin with. We work for nothing, remember?"

"Well, at least you and Critch, Ms. Smith," Big D said. "Agent Fluid Girl _is_ on the payroll."

"But I'm mostly the back up person when you send the Impossibles out and Fluey's . . . . . ummm, indisposed," FG said, being extremely careful how to word what she wanted to say.

"In any case," Big D said. "What I'm going to do for now, is put you five on suspension, indefinitely. Which means you'll have to turn in your communicators, and your transformers, boys. They're SSHQ property. Since your earrings are your own property, Fluid Girl, I am not at liberty to confiscate them."

"Gotcha, chief," Coiley said. "But what about Fluey? Can we still . . . . ."

"No, I'm afraid not," Big D said. "I realize you want to go on the search for Fluid, and I don't blame you, but I just _can't_ permit it. Not right now, at least. Please try to understand that."

"Okay, Big D," Coiley said.

And with that, the fivesome left the office, leaving behind their communicators, as well as Coiley's and Multi's guitars. Big D heaved a sigh, and put the copy of the new laws into his desk drawer. It was about all he could do.

Elsewhere, Fluey was about ready to climb the walls. He hated being cooped up in one place for a long period of time. But at least he was able to move a little. The chain on his leg kept him from reaching the door, but he figured it was locked on the outside, anyway. He walked over to the window where the chain was wrapped around the bar so he could at least take a look at his surroundings. He was able to tell he was in a house, at least, and he was on the ground floor. Either that, or the house was only one story. There weren't any other houses around, either. The only signs of life were birds, bugs, and a couple of squirrels here and there, and they wouldn't have been of any help at all.

"Great," Fluey grumbled as he went back to the mattress. "I'm stuck in the woods out in the middle of nowhere, with some kind of sicko, and no way out. How in the world are the guys gonna find me?"

Fluey got down on the mattress, laid on his side, and heaved a sigh. He didn't know what else he was going to do. As he was thinking, he heard the lock on the door being opened. Immediately, he was on his guard. The door opened, and Jake walked in. He was carrying a plastic tray with what looked like a hunk of bread and a glass of water on it. He also had a sickening smile on his face.

"Are you hungry, Franky?" he asked.

"Don't come near me . . . . ." Fluey said, backing away.

"Now, now, just take it easy, son," Jake said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Yeah, right," Fluey said. "Then what was with the whole 'let's play a little game' and whacking me with your belt when I wouldn't cooperate?"

"Well, if you're not gonna behave, then you have to be punished. Simple as that. In any case, I have to get to work, so I don't have time to play now. We'll play later."

_Not if I can help it, buster,_ Fluey thought, glaring at his captor. Jake put the tray down on the floor, and then he patted Fluey on the head.

"Now, you be a good little boy while I'm gone," he said, in that annoying condescending tone. "I'll be home at about six or six thirty."

And with that, Jake left the room, making sure to lock the door. Fluey didn't know why he bothered. He couldn't get that cuff off his ankle, anyway. At least Jake left the tray within his reach. The bread was hard as a rock, but Fluey didn't care. He figured he'd better eat whatever he was given, if Jake was going to attempt to "play" with him again. He needed to keep up his strength.

"I just hope this moron didn't put anything in the water," he said, but he drank it anyway. Then he took the tray and the glass, and put them next to the mattress for easy access. He figured he'd be able to use them as a defense. Then he sat down on the mattress, pulled his knees up to his chest, and stared out the window.

"I wonder if they've found my transformer and communicator yet?" he asked. "Coiley and Multi must have tracked my communicator down by now. I guess the question is are they _still_ looking for me, since they found my communicator abandoned?"

Fluey stared out the window. He didn't know what else he _could_ do, except hope that the others would find him, and soon.

Meanwhile, Big D was going through some paper work when his desk console began beeping.

"Big D here," he said.

"Chief, this is Agent Monahan," an agent said, coming onto the screen. "You know the body that Reed and Corden found?"

"Yes?"

"They just got done with the autopsy. The kid's name was Tobey Wooten, and we're definitely looking at a murder. His throat was slashed, and the cops found several stab wounds in the chest, the back, and the stomach. But that's not all they found."

"What else?"

"There were a lot of bruises in the abdomen, boss. A lot of this kid's . . . . . _equipment_, shall we say, has definitely been damaged. Some internal bleeding."

"Any evidence to who might have done it?"

"None, boss. No DNA evidence at all. Also, the time of murder isn't clear, either."

"I see. Thank you, Monahan."

"I know it probably won't do you much good, boss, and it'll give you something else to worry about, but . . . . ."

"I know, Monahan, I know. But to tell you the truth, I think if I _didn't_ know, I'd be worse off. I have to know what kind of criminal we're dealing with here."

"Right, boss. Monahan out."

Big D closed the connection, becoming more and more nervous by the minute. He tuned his desk console to Dr. Phelps' coordinates.

"Dr. Phelps," the doctor said. "What's up, Big D?"

"That skeleton the boys found," Big D said. "I need you to find out something about it."

"Okay, what do you need to know?"

"I need to know if there was a possibility that victim was molested. Agent Monahan called in, and he said the body Reed and Corden found . . . . ."

"I get the message, Big D. I'll see what I can do. And I wouldn't worry about Fluey in that position."

"I suppose you're right, Phelps. If I know Fluid, he'd put up quite a bit of a fight. In any case, I'm trying to find out if these cases are related or not. Over and out."

Big D heaved a sigh. He knew Fluey would put up a fight against an attacker, but he just wished he was more confident about that than he sounded.

Coiley and Multi weren't a barrel of monkeys, themselves. They were both over at Martha's Diner, explaining, and complaining, about Mayor Whimbelldon's new laws.

"Is he off his rocker?" Martha asked. "Honestly, how did he get elected?"

"Maybe he voted for himself or something," Coiley shrugged. "This is gonna be tough. It's agonizing enough not knowing where Fluey is, or how to find him, but not being able to _do_ anything about it . . . . ."

"And the fact that we've found two bodies so far isn't helping one bit," Multi said.

"These laws are not going to sit well with the public," Martha said. "Especially since one of them is barring male teachers from the schools. They won't stand for that, I'm sure."

"Hey, Martha!" a voice called from the kitchen. "You know what was just on the radio?"

"What, Lulu?" Martha asked, turning toward the voice. It was one of her waitresses, Lulu Bailey. She was coming out of the kitchen with the milkshakes the boys had ordered moments ago.

"Mayor Wimpy is at it again," Lulu said. "He said he's making absolutely sure the city is safe for children. He said something about abolishing the Catholic churches in Megatropolis."

"Why's he doing _that_?" Coiley asked.

"Because of allegations of abuse by Catholic priests around the US," Martha said. "You know, all that stuff that came out a few years ago?"

"Okay, _now_ it's starting to get ridiculous!" Multi shouted. "Who does this kook think he is?"

"It won't last," Martha said. "Trust me. Mayor Wimpy is afraid of getting sued. That's what caused him to place these new laws. A couple of lawsuits from a couple of irate parents. If more people sue over these new laws than the ones who sued over the child safety concerns, he'll relent. I know Wimpy. He's done dumb stuff like this before, and he always repeals."

"I hope so," Multi said. "I can't stand this sitting around doing nothing."

After leaving the diner, Coiley and Multi decided to head home. When Multi went inside, he could hear his father and stepmother arguing in the kitchen.

"Who does that man think he is?" his stepmother, Barbara, shouted.

"He's a nut job, that's what I think," his father, Ken, said. "Give a guy the keys to the city, and they think they can do what they want at the drop of the hat. Look at it this way, honey, it's summer vacation, so you don't have to teach any extra classes until school starts up again in September."

"It's not the extra classes I'm angry about, Ken!" Barbara shouted. "It's the discrimination that's got me ticked off! I can't be_lieve_ Whimbelldon! Just because there _have_ been reports of male teachers abusing students . . . . both boys _and_ girls, mind you . . . . does not mean that _all_ male teachers are pedophiles! And what about the fact that he's trying to do away with the Catholic church? I agree, it's just plain _horrible_ to hear about a priest sexually abusing someone, but that doesn't mean they're all guilty of it! Ooooohhhh . . . . . I'd like to go down to City Hall, grab Wimpy Whimbelldon by the jugular and just . . . . ."

"I take it you guys heard about Mayor Whimbelldon's new law," Multi said, coming into the room before his stepmother lost it completely.

"Oh, hi, sweetie," Barbara said, calming down. "Yeah, we heard about it. And we are just plain disgusted with it."

"One of us more so than others," Ken said. "How's Project Finding Fluey going?"

"Unfortunately nowhere," Multi sighed. "And thanks to Mayor Whimbelldon's No One Under the Age of Twenty-One Is Allowed to Take a Part Time Job law, we _can't_ do anything."

Before anyone could say anything further, the trio heard the front door slam. Multi's eighteen-year-old sister, Windy, stormed in, and stomped her way into the kitchen.

"I'm old enough to vote, but I'm not old enough for a part time job!" she shouted. "Arrggghhh!"

"Mayor Wimpy gets another one," Ken sighed.

"What happened, Win?" Multi asked.

"I just lost my job at Gumball's Department Store at the mall," Windy said. "Because of our stupid mayor and his stupid laws!"

"You're not the only one with job issues, Sis," Multi sighed. "Because of that same law, Big D had to put me, Coiley, and the girls on indefinite suspension."

"Are you serious?" Windy asked, picking up Skittles and hugging her. "Doesn't the mayor realize you're a superhero?"

"Yeah," Multi said. "But he's determined to make the city safe for all us 'future voters.' All I can say is this. If he's running for office by the time I'm old enough to vote, I am _not_ going to vote for him!"

The phone rang in the den rang before anyone could respond.

"I'll get it," Ken said, as he walked into the den.

"It's just stupid," Windy said. "I heard Mayor Wimpy was also talking about banning male employees from the kiddie stores at the mall, too."

"Oh for crying out loud!" Barbara shouted, smacking her hand to her forehead.

"This is getting _way_ out of hand here," Multi said.

"Darn right," Barbara said. "As soon as your father gets off the phone, I'm calling some of the other teachers, and see what I can do about organizing a protest. A lot will agree to it, I'm sure."

"You can count me in on joining, Barbara," Windy said. "It beats staying home and watching the baby."

"Looks like that's going to be my job for awhile," Multi sighed. He didn't hate his three-year-old half-brother, Adam. It was just that he'd rather be doing anything than having to baby-sit him.

While Multi, Windy, and Barbara went over plans for an upcoming protest, Ken came back into the kitchen. He had a sick look on his face.

"What's up, Dad?" Multi asked. Ken didn't respond right away. He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, and gestured toward it.

"Sit down, Mark," he said. "That was Big D on the phone."

"Oh no," Multi said. "What's wrong?"

"Big D got a call from a couple of police officers out in Fairmount," Ken continued. "A guy who worked at a landfill out there called the police because there was this really foul smell coming from part of an area. Another guy said it was probably just rotting garbage, but the first guy was worried it might have been some kind of health hazard, so he called the police. They found out what that smell was."

"Oh god, Ken . . . . ." Barbara started.

"What was it?" Multi asked.

"There is no easy way to say this," Ken sighed, running a hand through his hair, nervously. "They found another body of a teenager.


	14. Light's Out

Fluey heard the door opening again, and tensed up. He had fallen asleep hours ago. He had no idea what time it was, but something told him it was around six or seven in the evening. Immediately, he was on his guard.

"Hiya, Franky," Jake said, as he came into the room. Then he kneeled next to the mattress, and began running his hands through Fluey's hair. Fluey smacked one of his hands away.

"Stop it!" he shouted.

"What's the matter, Franky?" Jake asked, as he slowly peeled Fluey's jacket off. "I thought we were friends. Don't you want to be friends?"

"No! I want to get out of here and go home!"

"Well, that's just too bad, Franky boy, 'cause that ain't gonna happen. Now then, are you gonna cooperate, or . . . . . ."

"No way!"

Fluey gave Jake a hard punch in the stomach, and another one in the nose. Jake backed off for a moment, and then came at the dark-haired Impossible again. Fluey continued fighting him off, hitting, kicking, squirming, and yelling at the top of his lungs. Jake had a hard time keeping him down.

"Come on now," he said, trying to keep his temper. "Don't be a such a baby. All I wanna do is play."

"Yeah, but I _don't_!" Fluey shouted. "Get off of me!"

Fluey continued fighting Jake off. Jake was starting to get frustrated.

"Hold still, you little rat!" he shouted, clamping his hand over Fluey's mouth. In retaliation, Fluey bit down on Jake's hand as hard as he possibly could.

"Eeeeyow!" Jake screamed, immediately pulling his hand away. "Okay, squirt, _that_ does it!"

Jake grabbed Fluey by the shoulders, and forced him down onto the floor. Fluey continued fighting him off, or at least he tried to. Jake pulled him up slightly, and then slammed him down, resulting in Fluey banging his head pretty hard against the floor. Before he could recover from that, Jake put his hand against Fluey's neck, and pushed down on his throat. Fluey choked, and tried to pull Jake's hand away, but the more he fought, the harder Jake pushed.

"You think you're pretty tough, dontcha, Franky?" Jake asked, with a sinister smirk on his face. "You don't _actually_ think you can keep this up, do you? Remember, I'm a lot bigger, and a lot stronger than you."

Fluey slowly inched his hand toward the plastic tray Jake had brought in earlier. Jake didn't even notice. He just began loosening his belt, getting ready to make his move, all the while with his other hand pressing against Fluey's throat. Fluey managed to grab the tray, and he slammed it against Jake's face as hard as he possibly could.

"Aaahhh!" Jake shouted, stumbling backwards, due to the force of the blow. While he was recovering from that, Fluey grabbed the glass, and hurled it at his captor. It hit him in the head, and smashed into pieces after it hit the floor.

"All right," Jake growled. "Have it your way for now, you little monster. Of course, I'm not gonna let your actions go unpunished."

Immediately, Jake took off his belt, and began hitting Fluey with it as hard as he could. Fluey cried out in pain almost immediately. His back was still sore from the whipping he got the day before, which made this one seem worse. And it seemed like Jake was hitting him harder than he had before. He finally stopped when he saw Fluey's back was starting to bleed.

"Maybe _that_ will teach you," he said, smacking his hand against Fluey's back as hard as he could. "I might not let you off so easy next time, so you'd better learn to do as I say!"

Jake then grabbed the teenager by the collar of his turtleneck, and threw him onto the floor, making sure to slam him down on his back, as hard as he could. Fluey screeched in pain. Jake snickered, and then left the room. Once he was gone, Fluey crawled over to the mattress, and lay down on his stomach. He gripped the edge of the mattress with both hands, and hissed in pain.

"Chief . . . . . fellas . . . ." he moaned. "Where are you?"

Morning broke in Megatropolis. The whole mess was beginning to drive Big D crazy. So far, three bodies had been found, and two had been identified. The forensics lab in Fairmount was doing an autopsy on the latest body found. Big D also learned there was a mangled up bicycle in the same landfill not two feet away from where the police found the body. He was down in the infirmary, giving the latest news to Dr. Phelps.

"Since your son's friend was on a bicycle at the time of his disappearance, I felt I should tell you," he said.

"Geesh," Dr. Phelps said. "You don't think that the body they found _is_ Billy Bradley, do you?"

"Quite frankly, Phelps, I'm not sure _what_ to think anymore. Ever since Monahan called and gave me the report on the Tobey Wooten case, all I've been thinking about is where Fluid is, and what's being done to him. Not even the Shadow would . . . . would . . . . . . I can't even say it!"

"Yeah, me neither, chief."

The chief heaved a sigh, and sat down. He was getting a headache. As he was massaging his forehead, his communicator went off.

"Hi, chief," Phyllis said. "I got a call from my friend, Daisy. She and her husband are down at City Hall."

"What for?" Big D asked.

"They're taking part in a _major_ protest out there. Ever since Mayor Wimpy passed his latest 'safety' laws, people have been up in arms, especially parents."

"Yes, I heard Multi's stepmother was quite upset."

"She's down there too, along with Multi's sister. When Mayor Wimpy arrived at City Hall, Windy actually smacked him with the protest sign she was carrying. Five times!"

"Five times?" Dr. Phelps repeated. "We could use her at the agency!"

"Daisy said it's no longer a protest," Phyllis continued. "It's a riot! She said the last she heard, the mayor was hiding under his desk!"

"Good," Big D said. "Maybe he'll appeal these laws of is just to get some normalcy around here."

"Or better yet, kick him out of office," Dr. Phelps commented.

Big D just nodded. It was about all he could do. His mind wasn't on the subject of the mayor and his new laws, anyway. He went back up to his desk, and fiddled with the dials on his console for a moment.

"Agent Reed, K-Nine," Agent Reed said, once his picture appeared on the screen.

"Any luck?" Big D asked.

"None," Reed said. "After we found Fluey's stuff, his trail just seemed to vanish. And we don't even have the slightest idea where to look for him."

"Keep trying, Reed. He's just _got_ to be out there somewhere."

"Right, boss."

Big D signed off, and began massaging his forehead again. He had no idea what else he was going to do. A couple of assignments came in, and he had to assign agents to cover them, as usual but that was about all.

Fluey wasn't a barrel of laughs himself. Jake had really done a number on him the night before. He had to spend the entire night sleeping on his stomach, and it hurt to much to shift his position. The cuff on his leg didn't make it any easier, either. Now, he just sat on that mattress, staring out the barred window, trying not to go crazy, and wondering if his friends would ever find him. He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Jake came into the room with a key.

"Okay, kiddo," he said. "I'm gonna unlock the chain, but don't you try anything stupid, now."

"I might if you try to 'play' again," Fluey said. "I don't like your idea of fun, fella."

"Heh," Jake scoffed. "You ain't fooling me one little bit, Franky. I _know_ you've done it before. Good lookin' kid like you, I bet you've scored a number of times."

"No I _haven't_! That's not my scene!"

Jake just laughed, and unlocked the cuff from Fluey's leg. Then he pulled the dark-haired teenager to his feet, and practically dragged him down the hall. This gave Fluey a moment to look around. He realized he was in a one-story house, since there was no stairway around. The hardwood floor creaked, and the wallpaper was old, faded, and peeling. Jake opened a door, and practically threw Fluey inside. Fluey grabbed the closest object to balance himself, which happened to be the edge of an old, claw footed bathtub, which was full of hot water. Fluey just stared at the water for a moment or so, until he was suddenly grabbed by the back of the collar, and pulled to his feet.

"Bath time," Jake said, with a creepy smile on his face.

"You've gotta be kidding!" Fluey shouted.

"Come on, don't make this harder on yourself. We want to make sure those cuts on your back are properly sterilized, now don't we?"

_What is the matter with this guy?_ Fluey asked himself, giving Jake a weird look.

Before anything else could happen, Jake grabbed Fluey's wrist, and began trying to force his green turtleneck off. Fluey struggled, and tried to pull himself away. He managed to yank his arm away, resulting in his sleeve tearing off. The force of the yank sent Fluey stumbling backwards, and he ended up losing his footing. He slipped, and wound up banging the back of his head against the side of the bathtub.

"Ooowwww!" he moaned. _That_ one hurt, and it dazed him but good.

"See what happens when you listen to your elders?" Jake said, in a tone one would use to scold a toddler. "You get hurt. Now, be a good little boy . . . ."

Fluey was too dazed to respond, _or_ fight back. So he took off his clothes, and climbed into the bathtub, in silence. Once he was in, Jake poured some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth, and began rubbing Fluey's back with it, hard, which really aggravated the abrasions from the belt lashings. Fluey hissed in pain, as each stroke felt rougher and rougher.

"Ow! Watch it, will ya?" he finally shouted.

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" Jake shouted. Once he was finished, he grabbed a glass off the sink, filled it with water, and poured it over Fluey's head.

"Hey!" Fluey shouted. "_Now_ what are you doing?"

Jake didn't answer. He just squeezed something from a bottle into his hands, and started rubbing Fluey's hair vigorously.

"Come on, man!" Fluey shouted, smacking Jake's arm. "Knock it off! I don't like you in my hair like this!"

"But I just can't _help_ it!" Jake shouted. "Your hair is _so_ perfect, I can't keep my hands out of it!"

"As long as your hands don't go any lower than _that_, buster. I'm perfectly capable of doing this whole thing myself, you know!"

Jake said nothing, and rinsed out Fluey's hair. Once he was done with that, he reached into the bathtub. Immediately, Fluey pulled his knees up to his chest as far as he could, and wrapped his arms around his ankles, tightly.

"You're getting too tense, Franky," Jake said, pulling the plug out. "Come on, time to get out."

"Yeah, like I'd give you that satisfaction, fella," Fluey said.

"It's your choice, pal. Either you get outta there, or _I'm_ gonna have to get _in_ there."

Immediately, Fluey got out of the bathtub. _Any_thing to avoid this creep getting _too_ close. Jake handed him a towel, which Fluey grabbed almost immediately. After toweling off, Fluey was about to grab his clothes, but Jake beat him to them.

"Come _on_," he groaned.

Jake didn't say a word. He just gathered up Fluey's clothes. Fluey really didn't like the looks of this. He tried to grab them back, but Jake grabbed his arm and held it in a vice-like grip.

"Ow!" Fluey shouted. "Hey, man, let go! You're crushing my arm!"

"Tough luck, kid," Jake said. "You stay in here until I come back. And I don't want to hear one sound outta you until then!"

"Come on, what are you . . . . . ."

"I said keep quiet, you little maggot!"

And with that, Jake punched Fluey in the face, knocking the dark-haired Impossible to the floor. Then he stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut. Fluey sat up, and began to catch his breath. He didn't quite understand Jake's sudden mood swings, and boy, where they ever sudden! Jake returned a few minutes later, and threw a T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts at his captive.

"There," he said. "You satisfied now?"

"Better than nothing," Fluey mumbled under his breath. The minute he was dressed (sort of), Jake grabbed him by the arm again, and dragged him back into his room. He practically threw him to the mattress, and locked the cuff back on his ankle. Then he kneeled down, and leaned into Fluey's face.

"You're treading on thin ice now, Franky," he said. "You are one _very _frustrating little brat. You'd better watch it. I've been letting you off pretty lightly. I may not be very forgiving the next time."

"Hey, anything's better than your so-called 'playtime,' buster!" Fluey shouted. "There is absolutely no way I'm gonna let you . . . . ."

Before Fluey could go on, Jake punched him in the stomach as hard as he could. Then he grabbed his captive by the hair, and pulled him up, holding his hand against Fluey's neck.

"Maybe I wasn't clear before, Franky," he said. "I'm in charge around here, and what I say goes! I don't take no lip from nobody! You do as I say, or I'll wring your scrawny little neck! You got it?"

Fluey nodded. It was all he could do. With Jake's hand pressed against his Adam's apple that hard, he couldn't even choke out a response. Jake finally let go, and left the room. He came back a few minutes later, holding a syringe in his hand. He grabbed Fluey by the arm, and practically jammed the needle in as hard as he could, twisting the syringe a bit. Fluey screamed in agony. Jake just laughed.

"I told you I could make the needle as painful as possible," he said, completely ignoring Fluey's agonizing screams. Then he slowly pulled the needle out, twisting it a little again. Fluey's screams died down this time. He was starting to feel drowsy.

"That's a good little boy," Jake said. Fluey noticed he was using the condescending tone, except it sounded a little more sinister than before.

"It's sleepy-time now," Jake continued. "That's right, Franky. Be a good little boy, and go to sleep . . . . ."

Fluey's eyelids felt like they weighed at least ten tons each, and he could barely sit up. He slowly started to lie down, as his eyes closed completely, and he fell into an extremely deep sleep.


	15. Sketchy Details

Hours passed, and our heroes were no closer to solving the case. Big D was still waiting for the Fairmount PD to give him the autopsy report for the body they found. As Big D was thinking about what to do next, his intercom buzzed.

"Mayor Whimbelldon here to see you, chief," Phyllis said.

"All right," Big D groaned. "Send him in."

The minute he said that, the door to his office burst open, and in ran a _very_ distressed looking mayor.

"You've got to help me!" he shouted. "I can't _handle_ it!"

"Is there a problem, Mr. Mayor?" Big D asked, as if he didn't know.

"They're all going _crazy_ down at City Hall! It's a regular riot! I can't get any peace from them! They're mad, I tell you! Mad!"

"Do tell."

"One girl even started hitting me on the head with her protest sign!"

"Is that so."

"Isn't supposed to be _your_ job to help keep the peace in this city? _Do_ something! The police won't even lift a finger!"

"Unfortunately, Mr. Mayor, since you passed a law barring the Secret Security Headquarters from taking on local crime, in order to let the local police department have more work, it's out of my hands. But I _do_ have a suggestion that I'm sure will satisfy the protestors, without having them massacre you."

"Anything! _Any_thing! Tell me what to do!"

"Repeal those ridiculous laws you made outlawing anyone under the age of twenty-one to find a job, outlawing male teachers from the schools, and other laws like that. And stop trying to abolish the Catholic church! Just because you hear about them on the news in some places does _not_ make it a worldwide epidemic! And besides which, not _all_ male teachers, and not _all_ Catholic priests are child predators!"

"All right! All right! I'll repeal them right away! Oh thank you, thank _you_!"

"Now might I suggest you leave and get to work repealing those laws so the city can have at least a _little_ normalcy? I need the Impossibles reinstated and I need them reinstated _now_!"

"Right away!"

And with that, the mayor raced out of Big D's office, and back to City Hall.

"I'm truly amazed he's been able to stay in office for so long," he said. "That's one problem solved. Now if I can just solve the 'Missing Impossible' problem . . . . ."

By the next day, the "safety laws" had been repealed. There were a couple of irate parents complaining, but the mayor did nothing about them, since he was more afraid of a giant, city wide protest. The Impossibles, Shawn, FG, and Danalleah were back to work, and their equipment was returned.

"We've got a lot to do here," Big D said to Multi and Coiley when they arrived at the chief's office. "You boys said you were being watched by someone at the mall shortly before Fluid disappeared, correct?"

"Yeah, and we reported it to the police," Multi said. "They just said they'd take care of it."

"You think he maybe had something to do with this, Big D?" Coiley asked.

"I do," Big D nodded. Then he sighed. "Cases like these are nothing but a pain in the neck to solve, boys. I still haven't gotten word on . . . . ."

Big D was interrupted by his phone ringing. He immediately picked it up.

"Yes?" he said. "I see. So what's the damage?"

There was a long pause. Multi and Coiley looked at each other nervously, and then they looked at their superior. Skittles began whimpering nervously.

"I see," he said. "Thank you."

"Who was it, chief?" Coiley asked, as Big D hung up.

"Fairmount police," the chief said. "They just gave me the autopsy report. Time of death is unclear, but cause of death isn't. And it was pretty much the same as the last one. Slashed neck, several stab wounds . . . . . also, there were a couple of gunshot wounds to the back."

"Yikes," Multi said, cringing. "You said the last one was also . . . . . uhhhh . . . . ."

"Same with this one," Big D sighed. "They said they were looking at some major sexual abuse on this one. I'm not going to go into details . . . . . mainly because I'm not sure I can stomach having to repeat it."

"That's okay, chief," Coiley said. "I'm not sure _I_ can stomach _hearing_ about it!"

"Same here," Multi said.

"In any case," Big D went on, "all I can say about this one is that it was brutal. More brutal than Tobey Wooten's body when they found it."

"Were they able to identify this body?" Multi asked.

"They did," Big D sighed. "And I hate to be the one to bear the bad news to Phelps's son."

"Flying flip side!" Multi gasped. "You mean . . . . ."

"It was Billy Bradley?" Coiley asked.

"I'm afraid so," Big D said.

The room fell silent. Nobody could say anything after that one. The phone rang again, breaking the silence.

"Big D here," the chief said. "What? _Another_ one? Where was it this time? Do you know if . . . . . I see. How long until you get the results? Ah ha. Well, please inform me as soon as you possibly can! All right."

Big D hung up, and held his hand to his head.

"I don't know how much more of this I can stand," he groaned. "I really don't."

"Do we even want to know?" Coiley asked.

"Another body was recovered," Big D said. "This time it was in Hamilton, and a couple of children found a black trash bag in a ditch. When they opened it, they found a rotting corpse, and told their parents, and their parents called the police. The police said it was too decomposed to identify it right away."

"Sizzling stereos . . . . ." Multi said.

"It's been nearly a week since Fluey's been gone," Coiley said. "Do you think _this_ one might be . . . . ."

"I'm not sure," Big D said. "I don't _think_ it could be, but I don't know much about the decomposition process, and what a decomposed body would look like after a week, anyway. But it doesn't set my mind at ease one bit, boys."

"So what do we do now?" Multi asked.

"Maybe if we can get a composite sketch released," Coiley said.

"Good idea," Big D said. "Especially if you two think you know who might have taken Fluid. Go down to the police station to get the sketch, and make _sure_ they get it to a TV station so they can put it on the air."

Coiley and Multi then ran out of the office to get to work. Big D called Dr. Phelps to his office, in order to inform him about the autopsy report from Fairmount.

Elsewhere, Fluey was just beginning to come to his senses. His head hurt, he was cold and dizzy, and nauseated. He moaned as he sat up, and clutched his stomach.

"Ooooohhhh boy . . . . ." he groaned. "Man, I don't know if I can fight it . . . . ."

Fluey was determined not to throw up, but the nausea won out in the end. He coughed, gagged, and brought up the contents of his stomach, right onto the floor. It was about all he could do. That cuff on his leg restricted his mobility, and he didn't know if he could wait for Jake to show up, and he didn't want to attempt calling for him, either. He just _knew_ this was a side effect from whatever the heck Jake shot him with the night before. After five minutes (or maybe it just seemed that long), Fluey collapsed on the mattress, flat on his back, and began breathing heavily, feeling exhausted. He didn't even react when the door opened.

"Eecchh," Jake groaned when he came in. "Look at this. Look at the mess you've gone and made, you little maggot. I oughta start calling you that."

Jake then turned and left for the moment. Fluey managed to pull himself up in a sitting position. Jake returned with a bucket full of water and some cleaning solution, and a scrub brush.

"All right, Maggot," he said, tossing Fluey the brush. "Get to work cleaning this up."

Fluey didn't respond. He just got up, and got to work cleaning up the mess, all under Jake's supervision. Once he was finished, Jake walked over, and began patting him on the head.

"That's a good little Maggot," he said. Then he took the bucket out of the room. Fluey coughed, and laid down again. The smell of whatever was in that bucket was enough to turn his stomach in knots.

Ten minutes later, Jake returned to the room with the bucket, and a tray. Fluey sat back up, and noticed the tray had a bowl of something green, and mushy looking. A small spoon was also on the tray. It looked like a baby spoon. Jake put both of them down on the floor.

"Okay, Maggot," he said. "Here's breakfast. And I expect it to be gone by the time I get home from work. Also, if you got any issues with your stomach, use the bucket. If I get back and find _any_thing from your stomach on the floor, you're gonna get it. Get it?"

"Got it," Fluey said.

"Good," Jake replied. Then he left the room, closing and locking it behind him.

Once he was gone, Fluey took the spoon, and played with that green mush a little. It smelled awful, and the smell of it alone was making Fluey queasy.

"Well . . . ." he said. "Down the hatch. Maybe it doesn't taste as bad as it smells."

Fluey took a spoonful of the mush, and forced himself to eat it. But the minute he got it into his mouth, he wanted to spit it back out again.

"Yeeeccchhhh!" he shouted, grimacing. "I was right. It's _not_ as bad as it smells. It's _worse!_"

Fluey stirred that slop around with the spoon for awhile. He didn't want to eat it, but he knew if he didn't, Jake would probably clobber him. He still wasn't sure what this guy's game was, either. All he _did_ know was that he was trapped. Finally, he just decided to suck it up and eat. After all, he _had_ to keep up his strength, especially if Jake continually wanted to "play." It took awhile to get through, because of the baby spoon Jake had given him. He had just finished this putrid puree, when it suddenly felt like it was going to come back upstream. Fluey immediately grabbed the bucket, and let nature take it's course. Just when he thought he was finished, his stomach lurched, and the contents returned upstream once more.

"Uuuhhhhhh," Fluey moaned. "I don't know if I can take it . . . . ."

Just as soon as Fluey thought he was going to get break, he choked, coughed, gagged, and continued bringing up his breakfast. He had a nauseating feeling (literally) that he was going to be doing this all day.

Meanwhile, Big D, Coiley, Multi, and Dr. Phelps were going over a map of the area, as well as notes Big D and Dr. Phelps had taken from the autopsy reports they had received so far.

"I know this isn't going to be easy," Dr. Phelps said. "That first body the boys found may not even be related to the others. It had to have been there quite awhile, considering it was the body of a boy who had been missing for two years."

"And forensics are still trying to figure out whether or not that victim had been sexually assaulted or not," Coiley said, shivering a little at that thought.

"Second body was found off Highway one-oh-one," Multi said. "Near a river or something. And that could have been anywhere."

"We _do_ know it was at least west of Megatropolis, chief," Coiley said. "About four and a half hours outside the city, according to the coordinates of Fluey's communicator."

"Yeah, we got a positive ID on that one," Dr. Phelps said. "Tobey Wooten, and that was from the police files."

"Then a third body turned up in a landfill in Fairmount," Big D said. "And that was William Bradley, also from the files we looked at."

"How did Jamie take the news, Doc?" Multi asked.

"Not well," Dr. Phelps sighed. "I went home to tell him, because I just couldn't do it over the phone, and he lost it. Oh boy, did he lose it. I don't blame him one bit, though."

"In any case," Big D said, taking a black marker and circling part of the map. "I received a call from the police department in Hamilton, shortly after I received the Bradley autopsy report. There was another body found in a ditch there. I'm still waiting for . . . . ."

Before Big D could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"Speak of the devil," he said, picking up the receiver. "Big D here. Yes. Have you been able to identify the body? I see. All right then. Thank you."

Big D hung up the phone and sat down. He picked up his notes, and began scribbling.

"Well?" Dr. Phelps asked.

"Hamilton police department," Big D sighed. "Scratch Harvey Duncan from Freesburgh off the list."

"So far, we've scratched all of the missing kids off the list except Fluey," Multi said, grimly.

"I know," Big D said. "In any case, it was the same as the other cases. Slashed neck, several stab wounds, and . . . . . well . . . . ."

"Right," Dr. Phelps said. "So how brutal was this one?"

"I'm going to have to compare the photos once I receive them," Big D said. "As well as official copies of the reports. I may regret it later, but at this point, I don't know if I have a choice."

"I noticed a pattern here," Multi said. "Tobey Wooten, Billy Bradley, and Harvey Duncan were all found inside black trash bags, and they had all been killed the same way. Except Billy's body included gunshot wounds, and the other two didn't."

"And all three bags were found where they aren't likely to be discovered right away," Coiley said. "Especially Billy's since it was found in a landfill, where there are _tons_ of trash bags dumped there every day."

"The one we found wasn't buried in a trash bag, either," Multi pointed out. "But personally, I'd rather not focus on that right now."

"Understood," Big D said, nodding. He looked at the map, and heaved a sigh.

"The only connection we have is the way each boy was murdered," he said. "And whoever murdered them is obviously very smart. No finger prints on the bodies, _or_ the bags, _or_ the duct tape found on the bags . . . . . and no DNA samples on the bodies to pinpoint whoever molested them."

"We need more clues," Dr. Phelps said. "The trouble is nobody knows anything. Nobody saw anything, and the only suspects we have are whoever was following you boys at the mall that one day."

"Which reminds me," Big D said. "Where's the composite sketch you boys had made?"

"Well . . . ." Coiley said.

"Didn't you two go down to the police station to get one?" Big D asked.

"We did," Multi said. "And we asked to speak to the artist who does those, but all he did was take notes. He took down the description and said he'd handle it, and that was about all."

"Wait a minute," Coiley said. "I just remembered. Multi and I were leaving, and the police artist said something about not making the sketch because the SSHQ was handling the case, and he didn't see the need to . . . . ."

"What?" Big D shouted.

"I don't know for sure, Big D," Coiley said. "I just caught a bit of this guy mumbling under his breath. He said there wasn't any need to make the sketch of some guy hanging out at the mall, because this was a teenage runaway case, and nothing more. I also heard him say something about the police didn't _need_ to take on this case, because we were taking care of it."

"Of all the . . . . ." Big D started. "All right. Here's what we'll do. Phelps, I need you to get your son in here so we can get a good composite of this character. But don't go to the police station for it again. Take this to Agent Neely. As of this moment, I am no longer going to work with the police on this case. Boys, go down to Agent Neely's unit, explain the situation, and wait for Phelps there."

"Right, chief!" Multi and Coiley shouted, saluting. And with that, the two Impossibles and Dr. Phelps raced out of the office.

Big D stood up and began pacing around his office. He was livid. He couldn't believe the police station wasn't even _do_ing anything about this. He also couldn't believe, that just because Fluey was a missing SSHQ agent, that they just _assumed_ the SSHQ was handling it. After pacing for awhile, Big D sat back down at his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed the police station. He had a bone to pick with them, that was for sure.


	16. Another Day

"Megatropolis police," the voice on the other end of the phone said.

"What is the meaning of dropping the missing persons case?" Big D demanded.

"The Secret Security Headquarters is handling it now," the officer said. "Since the mayor dropped that law about teenage employees. And, since the Impossibles are on the job, I don't see any reason why we should stay on it."

"Still, I would think that the police would be doing at least a _little_ of the legwork."

"Hey, let the Secret Security Headquarters have it. They make our job a heck of a lot easier. Besides, _every_one knows that moron who runs the place over there is gonna treat this like that Shadow case awhile back. Hey, who is this, anyway?"

"That moron who runs the Secret Security Headquarters."

"Uh oh . . . . . . sorry, wrong number!"

Big D then heard a click, and then the dial tone, and slammed the phone down on the hook. Then, he picked up the phone again, and called the police station again.

"Get me Chief O'Hanlon," he said. "On the double!"

There was a slight pause, and finally the chief of police got on the line.

"Chief of . . . . ." O'Hanlon started.

"I am not in the mood to exchange pleasantries, O'Hanlon!" Big D shouted. "I just got off the phone five minutes ago with an officer of yours, after I found out the police department was dropping the case. I want to know if you . . . . ."

"Yes, I told them to drop it, Davis. Since the other two Impossibles are back on the job . . . . . ."

"John, seriously . . . . . _why_ are you doing _nothing_?"

"Well, this _is_ an SSHQ thing, isn't it?"

"John, you know my family secrets. You _know_ my grandson is one of my agents. You _know_ why I didn't follow protocol during the Shadow incident. Just because I send out the Impossibles does not automatically make the situation exclusively an agency matter. What gives you the idea that you and your officers can just sit around and do _nothing_ about not one murder case, but _four_ murder cases?"

"Three of 'em aren't in our jurisdiction, Davis."

"John, really, I _don't_ want to hear about jurisdiction limitations. I don't want to hear about the agency handling it, which gives the police the right not to anymore . . . . . I don't even want to deal with the details on those murder cases . . . . . I don't want to _deal_ with _any_ of this! The only thing I want right now is to have my grandson back, alive and in one piece. I've already got the K-Nine unit working on this, and I _don't_ have agents to spare, and I _don't_ want to turn this into the Shadow incident all over again, because it could cost me my job. I seriously _need_ the police involved in this!"

"All right, Davis, all right, you've made your point. I'll do what I can. I'll get in touch with the police departments where the other three bodies were found."

"Thank you."

Big D hung up the phone, and began massaging his forehead with both of his hands. The whole mess was beginning to give him a major headache.

Elsewhere, Fluey was sprawled out on the mattress, flat on his back, and practically gasping for breath. He had spent hours throwing up, and for a minute, he didn't think it looked like there was an end to it. He was exhausted, like he had fallen and couldn't get up. He wondered if Jake had purposely put something in his food to induce vomiting, to make him too weak to resist his advances? One thing was sure, Fluey was way too tired to do much fighting, and that worried him. As he was laying there, he heard the door open, and let out a moan.

"Oh no . . . . ." he muttered.

"What's the matter?" Jake asked as he came into the room, using that patronizing tone. "Little Maggot don't feel good?"

Jake sat down on the floor, beside the mattress, and began stroking Fluey's hair. Fluey tensed up, and started backing away. Jake just laughed, stood up, and began loosening his belt. Immediately, Fluey began looking around the room, trying to locate something he could use to defend himself against this psycho. He caught sight of the bucket, and, as luck would have it, it was within arm's reach. He managed to sit up, and grab the bucket, just as Jake started coming toward him. He swung the bucket directly at Jake, and splattered him with the bucket's contents.

"Yeeecchhhh!" Jake shouted, stumbling backwards. "All right, you little rat, _now_ you're gonna get it!"

Jake was about to lunge, when Fluey grabbed the bucket again, and threw it, beaning Jake in the head. He wasn't knocked out, unfortunately, but he _was_ dazed enough to stop, at least. He shook his head out to regain his composure, and then growled.

"All right, Maggot," he said. "If _that's_ how you want to play it . . . . ."

Jake stormed out of the room. Fluey knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet. He just didn't know what was coming. But one thing was for sure, he didn't like it. Moments later, Jake returned into the room, holding a chain, probably from a swing set or something. Jake then came forward, and grabbed Fluey by the front of his shirt.

"Okay, Maggot," he growled. "Off with it."

"What?" Fluey asked, trying to pull away from his captor.

"Don't make this harder on yourself than it already is," Jake snarled, practically in Fluey's face. "Take off your shirt."

"No!" Fluey shouted. "You gotta be kidding me!"

"Take it off before I rip it off your back, Maggot!"

Jake then threw Fluey to the floor as hard as he could. Fluey gulped, and took off his shirt. He just hoped Jake wouldn't order him to take off the shorts as well. Jake smiled sinisterly, raised the chain, and whipped it. It hit Fluey right in the back, and hard.

"Aaaaahhhh!" Fluey screamed.

"Smarts, don't it," Jake said. "If you thought being whipped with my belt was bad, you ain't seen nothin' _yet_, Maggot!"

Jake laughed maniacally as he continued striking Fluey in the back with the chain, completely ignoring Fluey's shrieks of agony.

"Stop, please, stop!" Fluey begged. "Please, I can't take it! _I can't take it!_"

Jake just kept on laughing and hitting Fluey with the chain. By the time he was finished, Fluey was practically reduced to tears. He howled in pain, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was crying. He knew he was bleeding, but he didn't know how badly. He wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to know. He could hear Jake leave the room, but he didn't bother to look up. It even hurt too much to move. He heard Jake come back a few minutes later, but again, he didn't bother to look up. He had a feeling this was it. He just knew Jake was going to make his move and "play," and Fluey was in absolutely no shape to even attempt to fight back now.

_Make it quick,_ he thought. _If he's gonna play now, please, please, PLEASE just let him make it quick!_

Fluey felt something being pressed against his back, and he let out a scream, due to the pain.

"Shhhh," Jake said, softly. "There, there. It's all right. Calm down, it's okay."

"No . . . . . more . . . . ." Fluey said, taking a couple of rapid breaths, trying to compose himself. "P-please . . . . no . . . ."

"It's okay," Jake continued. "I'm not gonna play now. I'm just cleaning you up a little, okay?"

Fluey didn't answer. He just let out a whine. After Jake was done wiping down Fluey's back, he poured something onto it, which practically burned. Fluey let out a loud howl of pain.

"Take it easy, it's all right," Jake said, as he started rubbing something against Fluey's back again. "It's just hydrogen peroxide. Don't want you to get infected now. Now hold still. I know it hurts, but it'll hurt a lot more if it gets infected."

Fluey said nothing, and tried his best to stay still, but he kept flinching as Jake touched any part of his back with the peroxide. Finally, Jake was finished with it. Fluey moaned, and crawled over to the mattress, flopping down on it, flat on his stomach.

"What a good boy!" Jake shouted, sounding like a parent praising a toddler. "Now, it's sleepy-time . . . . ."

Fluey groaned. He knew what this meant. The needle again. He just decided to stay calm, and let Jake inject him. He was in too much pain already, and he didn't want to risk more. Jake took one of his needles, and stuck it into Fluey's arm, gently, because he was cooperating.

"That's right," he said. "Go to sleep like a good little Maggot . . . . ."

Fluey moaned and closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness. Jake laughed, and took out another syringe, but this one was empty. He stuck the needle into Fluey's arm, and extracted some blood. He then took another needle, and did the same thing.

"Good little Maggot," he said, quietly. "Just want to get a couple of blood samples. Just stay asleep. I won't hurt you . . . . ."

Jake laughed as he continued drawing blood, and he also injected Fluey with the "usual" injection whenever it looked like he was going to wake up during this bizarre procedure. When he was finished, Jake wrapped Fluey in a large blanket, took his syringes, and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Two days passed. Multi and Coiley had given copies of the composite sketch they had made to the television stations, and they were running the image at various times throughout the day, but nobody had received a single call.

"You'd think we'd receive some news," Phyllis said, as she and Mike went up to Phyllis's desk.

"Well, it's only been two days," Mike said, shrugging. "And it could be that maybe no one's noticed this guy."

"Who's side are you on?"

"Yours, of course, I'm just sayin' that most of the time people are so absorbed in their own worlds, that they don't tend to notice these things."

Phyllis sighed, and sat down at her desk. Mike walked over behind her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"It'll be okay," he said. "We'll get through this."

"I just can't think straight, especially after hearing the autopsy reports on the others," Phyllis sighed. "What if that . . . . . that _monster_ who took Fluey is doing the same to him? What if he's already killed him?"

"Hey, if I know Fluey, he'd be givin' whoever's got him a run for their money. But I know what you mean. It's hard _not_ worryin', isn't it?"

Once more, Phyllis nodded. It was about all she could do, except get back to work, and try not to worry about it.

Coiley and Multi were out in the Impossi-Jet, searching the entire area from above. It was getting close to sunset, and the boys were having absolutely no luck whatsoever.

"We've been from here to Civic City to Smithtown to Freesburgh and back again!" Coiley shouted. "And there hasn't been any sign of Fluey anywhere!"

"It's like he just dropped off the face of the earth or something," Multi said. "I keep getting this bad feeling that when we _do_ find him, it'll be too late."

"I know," Coiley said. "I'm getting that same feeling."

Skittles began whimpering. It was obvious to the two Impossibles that she, too, was getting that same feeling. As the boys continued their search, a light in the Impossi-Jet's dashboard began flashing, and something began beeping. Coiley pushed a button, and Phyllis's picture appeared on the on-board TV screen.

"What's up, Phyllis?" he asked.

"Big D wants you two back at HQ," Phyllis said. "The tech guys finished your wrist communicators, and the chief wants to give them to you right away."

"Circumstances being what they are, I can't blame him," Multi said.

"We'll be there as soon as we can, Phyllis," Coiley said. He ended the transmission, and flew the Impossi-Jet back to headquarters.

When the two Impossibles arrived at HQ, they immediately went up to Big D's office. The head of the science and technology department, Dr. Reginald "Reggie" Johnson, was already there.

"Well, guys, here they are," he said.

"Great," Coiley said. "But these look a little more high-tech than the standard SSHQ communicator."

"That's why it took so long for us to get them done," Reggie explained. "We wanted to combine the wrist communicators with the transformers. That's why there are several different buttons on it. You'll know which buttons activate your powers, though. We colored them the same as the ones on your transformers."

"Good thinking," Multi said.

"Yeah," Reggie said. "I don't know _why_ I never thought of it before."

"Well, I guess we'd better get back to our aerial search," Coiley said. "We've got a lot of ground to cover. Thanks a lot, Reggie!"

And with that, Multi and Coiley (and Skittles) left to get back to their search. Once they were gone, Reggie was about to leave Big D's office, but stopped. He cleared his throat, and held up a third communicator.

"What do you want me to do with Fluey's new communicator, chief?" he asked.

"I'll hold onto it," Big D said, taking the wristwatch-like device. "The boys' new communicators won't do us much good in the search, but I wanted them to have them as soon as possible, in case they run into trouble while they're looking for Fluid."

"Can't blame you for that, chief," Reggie said, then he left the office, closing the door behind him.

Big D sighed, and held Fluey's communicator, staring at it. Finally, he opened his desk drawer, and placed the communicator inside. Then he stood up, walked over to his office window, and stared out at the city, and watched as the sun was setting. As the day faded to night, Big D's hope of finding Fluey alive faded right along with it.


	17. Bad Humor

The next day was basically the same as every other day since Fluey had disappeared. Big D marked the day before off on a calendar, and went through some paperwork from other cases. It was about all he could do. As he was going through the paperwork, his desk console began beeping.

"Big D," he said, activating the TV screen.

"Agent Corden, chief," Agent Corden said as his image appeared. "Just calling to let you know we had an idea."

"What is it?"

"We're gonna back track from Highway one-oh-one, you know, where Multi and Coiley found Fluey's stuff?"

"Back track?"

"Yeah, work backwards. See, Reed and I were thinking. It's obvious the kidnapper found out Fluey's an SSHQ agent, since his SSHQ card was in his wallet. We're thinking he figured the agency would be on his tail, so he could've stashed Fluey right under our noses, and dumped his stuff out in the woods to throw us off."

"Hmmm . . . . . you may have something there, Corden. Where are you, Reed, and the rest of the unit now?"

"We're still down Highway one-oh-one, so it'll take us awhile to get back up there."

"I see. Remain where you are, and keep searching. I'll send some other agents to check around here. It will take you too long to get back here."

"Yeah, I see your point, Big D. Corden out."

Big D ended the transmission, and pushed his intercom button.

"Phyllis, proceed to communications office," he said. "Call all agents in the building to a meeting. They are to gather in the auditorium in twenty minutes."

"Yes sir," Phyllis said. Then she got up from her desk in order to announce the meeting over the loudspeaker.

Twenty minutes later, the agents in the building had gathered in the auditorium. As usual, they were all talking at once. Big D banged his gavel on the podium to get their attention.

"Order, please!" he shouted as he banged. The agents came to order, not wanting to go deaf again if the chief called Mike up to the podium again.

"Thank you," he said, once the auditorium became quiet. "I've called this meeting to discuss the developments in our 'Missing Impossible' case, as it were."

"This'll be a short meeting," a new agent from mechanics, Nathan Mitchell, said under his breath. He had only been working there for a month. Mike nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

"I received a call earlier today from Agent Corden," Big D continued. "He and Reed haven't found anything new, but they _did _come up with an interesting theory that I'd like to look into."

"Why can't Reed and Corden look into their theory themselves?" Agent Caufield asked.

"They're too far away from Megatropolis," Big D said. "Let me explain their idea. They think whoever abducted Fluid might have stayed in Megatropolis, and discarded his things to throw us off the track, when he found out Fluid is an agent."

"Yeah, who wants an entire super secret government agency on your back?" Mike asked.

"I want to look into this, so I'm asking for volunteers to search around," Big D continued.

"I'll volunteer, Big D!" Danalleah shouted, immediately.

"Us too, chief!" Shawn shouted, as she and FG stood up.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, girls," Big D said. "However, I'm afraid I can't allow you to participate in the search, considering the factors involved."

"Yeah, we don't want you girls getting in trouble," Dr. Phelps said. "Especially if the perpetrator is still in the city. That being said, chief, I'll volunteer for this one."

Within minutes, Big D had enough volunteers to search Megatropolis, and he adjourned the meeting.

"How long you think it'll take them to search?" Phyllis asked Mike.

"Beats me," Mike said, shrugging. "It's a good idea of Corden's, but I don't think much is gonna come from it. The cops already combed the entire city."

"That's true, Rogers, but don't forget, _we_ have better technology than the cops," Nathan said.

"Who invited you in on the conversation, Mitchell?" Mike asked.

"Just giving my two cents," Nathan said, shrugging. "Well, I must be going. I've got a lot of ground to cover in the search for our little 'Missing Impossible.' See ya!"

"I'd better get back to work myself," Phyllis said. "It keeps my mind off things."

And with that, Phyllis went back up to her desk. When she arrived, she found Big D pacing the floor in his office.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up, chief," she said.

"I know, I know," Big D said. "Except I don't know what else I can do. I'm at my wits end over this, and it is driving me absolutely mad."

Phyllis nodded. She could relate. It was driving her crazy as well. All she could do now was wait for some news. _Any_ news.

While in flight, Coiley, Multi, and Skittles came to the area where they had found Fluey's wallet, communicator, and transformer. Coiley landed the Impossi-Jet, and converted it to Impossi-Mobile.

"What are you doing, Coiley?" Multi asked.

"This may sound far fetched, but I had an idea," Coiley said. "Maybe we need to _think_ like the crook in question in order to find him."

"You mean drive down one-oh-one? I don't know, Coiley. It's an interesting thought, but that guy could have taken any number of exits, and . . . . ."

"And he had to have stopped _some_where along the way for gas, Multi. Maybe an attendant at one of the gas stations has seen this guy. After all, we _do_ have copies of not only Fluey's missing poster, but the composite sketch as well."

"It's going to take some time to do, and it _is_ a long shot, but I don't know what else we can do. At this point, I'm willing to try anything. Let's go."

And with that, Coiley and Multi (and Skittles) drove off down the highway on their search.

"Maybe Skittles will be able to pick up the scent a little better if she's closer to the ground," Multi said.

Skittles barked, and jumped onto the hood of the Impossi-Mobile, like she often did when the boys were searching for something. She only did this when the vehicle was in Impossi-Mobile mode, though. She didn't have the courage to do this sort of then when it was in jet mode.

Back at HQ, Phyllis was keeping herself busy, catching up on some typing she needed to do. Big D had asked her to take messages, as he didn't want to be disturbed for awhile. He didn't go into details on why, but Phyllis figured he was probably going over his notes and other details of the case for the umpteen billionth time, trying to figure out if anything was overlooked. They needed more clues to the case, and they just didn't have any. As Phyllis was working, Agent Nathan Mitchell walked into the outer office.

"Been busy?" he asked.

"Oh, hi, Nathan," Phyllis said, as she stopped typing and took off her reading glasses. "Any luck on Reed and Corden's theory about the kidnapper still being in Megatropolis?"

"Not much," Nathan said, shrugging. "I was over at the mall, showing the composite sketch to all the store managers, and asking some of the patrons. I've gotten a couple of responses. A couple of guys at the arcade, the movie theater, and the food court _have_ definitely seen him hanging around, because that's where most of the kids hang out down at the mall. The trouble is nobody knows who he is. A guy at the arcade said he'd seen him there a lot, and figured he was a mall rat. He said there were a lot of _those _types hanging around anyway."

"So he didn't think much of the guy," Phyllis said.

"Obviously not."

"Figures."

Phyllis sighed, put her glasses back on, and went back to typing. Nathan just stood there for a few minutes.

"Did you need something, Nathan?" Phyllis asked, after she noticed he was still standing there. "If you need to see the chief, you'll have to come back later. He doesn't want to be disturbed right now."

"No, I don't need to see Big D," Nathan said. "You've been getting out much since this started?"

"No, not really. I haven't been able to keep my mind off the worse case scenario."

"That's my point. You need to have a little fun in your life. How 'bout dinner and a movie?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Nathan. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on it. I'm barely able to concentrate on what I'm doing now!"

"See what I mean? You're gonna wind up worrying yourself sick over this! Besides, there's nothing that can be done, anyway."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Fluey's been missing for a couple of weeks now. The more time that passes, the less chance we have of finding Fluey alive."

"Stranger things _have_ happened, Mitchell."

"Okay, fine. Deny it all you want, babe, but you know I'm right. If we haven't found him by now, we never will. And if we do find him, we're gonna find him dead."

Phyllis glared at Nathan after that remark. Nathan just stood there, leaning against the doorway.

"You don't know that for sure," Phyllis said.

"And you don't know for sure if he's still alive," Nathan said. "Why don't you just admit it, Phyllis? We're never gonna find your stupid brother alive. They'll probably find him in some ditch out in the middle of nowhere, just like they found the others. He's dead, and you know it."

Phyllis grabbed her stapler (it was the closest thing on the desk to grab), and threw it as hard as she could at Nathan. He ducked, and the stapler hit the wall. Then he left the office without another word. Phyllis got up and ran to the doorway, just in time to see Nathan get on the elevator.

"CREEP!" she yelled at the top of her voice. Then she stomped back to the desk and continued typing.

"What was _that_ about?" Big D asked, coming out of his office.

"Nothing," Phyllis said. "Agent Mitchell was just being a wise guy."

"I see. Speaking of Agent Mitchell, I'm heading down to Mechanics. Maybe Rogers can give us a little insight on that van you saw."

"I doubt it. Since I don't know anything about cars, I wasn't able to give the police a better description than it being an old beat up white van."

"Still, you never know."

Phyllis nodded, and went back to her typewriter.

Down in Mechanics, Mike and a group of the other mechanics were taking apart a car that had practically been mutilated in a high speed chase earlier that morning.

"I'm surprised the crook drivin' this sucker walked away from a wreck like this without a scratch," Mike said.

"Seriously," Nathan agreed. "By the way, Rodge, I just came from upstairs. Phyl's on the verge of going nutso."

"Well, you can't blame her. And don't call me 'Rodge', okay, Mitch?"

"Fine, fine. But seriously, Mike, she's completely bonkers if she thinks Fluey's still alive. Chiefy's just wasting his time with these searches."

"Hey, you never know. What proof you got that says Fluey's dead, anyway?"

"What proof you got that says he's still alive?"

"Touche."

Mike and Nathan said nothing more, and continued stripping the wrecked car. As they were doing that, Nathan suddenly broke the silence.

"It's kinda funny, though," he said.

"What?" Mike asked, managing to pry one of the car doors open.

"During the Shadow incident, he had to tell us Phyllis and Fluey were his grandkids. Then I found out his kid was murdered, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then I found out chiefy's wife was murdered, right?"

"So?"

"I just think it's kind of funny. Murder must run in his family."

Mike stood up straight, and gave Nathan a look.

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked. "That is _not_ even re_mote_ly funny! There is absolutely nothin' comical about murder, and you know it!"

"Aw, lighten up," Nathan said. "It's just a joke!"

"Some joke! You're a dead man if Big D hears you say it. He'll hit the roof, believe me!"

"Come on, Mike! It's hilarious! You know what your problem is? You don't have a sense of humor."

"And I question your sense of humor, Mitchell," Big D said.

"Whoa!" Nathan shouted, immediately turning around. There was the chief standing behind him, glaring sharply.

"Chief!" Nathan shouted. "I, uhhh, I didn't . . . . I mean I wasn't . . . . . I mean . . . . whoa boy. Mike, do something!"

"Okay, I'll do somethin'," Mike said, with a shrug. "I'll go back to workin' on this heap while you try to squirm your way out of this."

"Murder must run in my family, eh?" Big D asked. "And you call _that_ a joke, Mitchell?"

"Well . . . . I mean . . . ." Nathan stammered.

"I am in no mood for this sort of thing, Mitchell," Big D said. "I have enough on my mind without you and your so called jokes!"

"Look, Big D, I'm gonna be blunt," Nathan said. "You're wasting your time with this, and you're wasting _our_ time as well! Fluey _can't_ still be alive after this long! He's dead! Everybody here knows it! Why don't you just give up and admit it?"

"Unless I have solid proof, I refuse to believe it," Big D said, and he started back up to his office. "I don't have time for this. I've got a _lot_ of work to do."

"Wake up and face the music, chiefy!" Nathan shouted. "Fluey's dead and you're never gonna find him! Why can't you get it through that thick skull of yours!"

Big D stopped in his tracks, and turned around slowly. He had one of those "if looks could kill" expressions on his face.

"You just crossed that fine line, Nate," Mike said.

Big D walked over, and grabbed Nathan by the collar of his coveralls. Nathan began to get nervous. He had never seen Big D this mad before.

"Get out," Big D practically growled. "I don't want to see you in this building again. I want you out of here immediately!"

The minute Big D let go, Nathan ran out of the garage doors as fast as he could.

"I knew he wouldn't last," Mike said. "You okay, chief?"

"Fine," Big D sighed. "But I'd be a _lot_ better if I knew where Fluid is."

"I know, chief," Mike sighed. "Believe me, I know."


	18. Bad to Worse

Multi and Coiley continued their search, but so far, they hadn't come up with any leads. Multi kept checking off exit ramp after exit ramp each time they searched the area it lead to, but nobody had seen anything, or anyone suspicious.

"We've gotta find something soon," Multi said. "Because this isn't getting us _any_where, Coiley."

"I know, I know," Coiley said, as he drove the Impossi-Mobile onto another exit ramp. "I thought it would be a good idea to do this, but . . . . ."

"It's just taking too long. We'll never find anything at this rate."

Before Coiley could respond, his communicator began beeping.

"What's up, Big D?" he asked.

"I wanted to know how it's going on your end," Big D said. "What are you two doing, anyway?"

"Well, I got the bright idea to check every single exit off the highway," Coiley said. "So far, we've come up empty handed in every single one of them. We were just about to throw in the towel."

"Normally, I'd allow you to, but since we don't have any other leads, keep going."

"But it could take us a long time to find something, chief!"

"I know, Coil, I know, but . . . . . I just can't think of anything else to do."

"Okay, chief. Over and out."

Coiley signed off, sighed, and pulled the Impossi-Mobile up to a nearby gas station.

Back in Megatropolis, Dr. Phelps returned to HQ with a report on his search.

"Absolutely nothing, Big D," he sighed. "I've been in touch with most of the other agents who volunteered to search the city. They haven't been able to find anything, either."

"I see," Big D said, massaging his forehead. "I'm not sure what to say, Phelps. I'm not even sure what else I can _do_."

Dr. Phelps just nodded, and went back to the infirmary. Big D heaved another sigh, and began to get started with some paperwork for the time being. While he was working, he came across a case that was recently closed from Italy. It got him thinking to a case Multi, Coiley, and Danalleah had tackled. Several girls from all over the world had fallen into a strange coma, and nothing could wake them up. Phyllis, as well as Coiley's younger sister Courtney, and Multi's older sister Windy, had fallen victim to this sleep, and Fluey had disappeared mysteriously. They later told Big D Fluey had been kidnapped by the daughter of a puppet master and she was also behind the strange coma-like sleep the girls were in. Danalleah and the other two Impossibles found out he was being taken to a small town in Italy, and they found that out by calling on Danalleah's mentor and temporary guardian, Winsome Witch. Big D immediately hit the intercom button on his desk.

"Phyllis, get Critch up here on the double!" he shouted.

"Yes sir," Phyllis said.

"Why I didn't think of this before, I'll never know," Big D said. Shortly afterward, Danalleah walked into Big D's office.

"You sent for me, Big D?" she asked.

"Yes," Big D said. "I just had a brainstorm about how to find Fluid, and I need you to help me."

"I'll do whatever I can. Anything just to get Fluey back safely."

"Good. Do you remember the case you, Coil, and Multi were on in Italy?"

"Oh boy, do I ever!"

"Good. And you remember how you managed to find out where Fluid was, and where he was being taken?"

"Yes, we went to Aunt Winnie's and she cast this spell. Oh, I get it, you want me to cast the same spell, don't you?"

"Exactly."

"Oh chief . . . . . I don't know how to say this . . . . ."

"You don't know how to cast the spell."

"I'm sorry. If I knew how to cast the spell, we'd have found Fluey a long time ago. Aunt Winnie says I'm not quite ready for that one yet."

"I see. But I'm not licked on this one yet. Can you ask your aunt to . . . . ."

"She's on vacation. She told me she was going to see the world, and I don't know where she is, and I can only contact someone telepathically if I know where they are. I tried telling you that during the Shadow incident, but . . . . ."

"I know. I remember. Thank you anyway. You may go now."

"I'm sorry, Big D."

Big D didn't respond. He just shuffled some papers on his desk. Once he moved them to the side, he took out his map. He kept looking at it, and his notes written on it, but he just couldn't for the life of him figure out what to do.

Three more days went by. Fluey was finally beginning to wake up. He had to have been out cold for at least a week. However, Fluey's sense of time had been completely distorted, and he couldn't even keep track of the day of the week anymore. Everything hurt, and his stomach was upset. He managed to push himself up into a sitting position, but it took quite an effort. He shoved aside the blanket and groaned. Then he looked down at his arms and legs, and noticed they were covered in small, puncture marks, obviously from where Jake had stuck all those needles in him. As Fluey was examining the marks, the door opened.

"Good morning, Little Maggot," Jake said. "Oh, I see we're awake. Good. You've been asleep for quite awhile. Come on. It's time for your bath."

Jake unlocked the cuff around Fluey's ankle, picked him up, and carried him to the bathroom. Fluey was so disoriented, he didn't struggle. As a matter of fact, he didn't put up too much of a protest throughout the whole thing, until Jake took a washcloth and began rubbing it against Fluey's chest, going lower and lower with it. And _that_ was enough to wake him up from that drug induced haze he was in.

"Yike!" he shouted, and he pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Stubborn little brat," Jake mumbled. "I've just about had it with you. You're obviously not going to cooperate."

"Darn right I'm not," Fluey said.

"I'm starting to lose my patience with you, Maggot. If you don't start cooperating, I'm afraid it's going to be very rough on you."

"Threaten me all you want, buster, because I am _never_ gonna cooperate with you. Not with what you have in mind."

Jake said nothing. He just reached into the bathtub, pulled the plug out, grabbed a towel, and lifted Fluey out of the bathtub, wrapping the towel around his captive. Being a little more awake than he was before, Fluey started struggling this time.

"Let go of me!" he shouted, as he pounded on Jake's shoulder.

Jake said nothing, and carried Fluey back to his "prison room," dropping him on the mattress, rather unceremoniously, leaving the room afterward. Fluey tied the towel around his waist, securing it in a tight knot, when he realized the position he was in now. It would be extremely easy for Jake to "play" with him now. However, he also noticed Jake hadn't locked the cuff around his ankle.

"Now's my chance to make a run for it!" he shouted. He immediately got up, and headed for the door, but luck was not on his side. Jake returned to the room, holding something behind his back. Fluey began backing away from him, nervously, figuring he was hiding yet another syringe.

"It's sleepy-time, Little Maggot," Jake said, using a tone of voice that seemed to be a mix between condescending and sinister.

Fluey backed into the wall, and found himself stuck. There was no way to get around his captor. Jake laughed, and took what he was hiding behind his back out. A lead pipe. Before Fluey could do anything, Jake whacked him upside the head with it, rendering him unconscious. Then he tossed the pipe aside, lifted Fluey into his arms, and carried him out of the room.

"You only have yourself to blame, Maggot," he said. "Now you'll see what happens when you refuse to cooperate."

Jake then began laughing maniacally as he opened the basement door, and carried Fluey down the basement stairs.

Morning broke over Megatropolis. It was a Saturday, and neither Big D, nor Phyllis, were in the mood to go into the office.

"I hope we find something soon," Phyllis said, as she put a kettle of hot water on the stove.

"So do I," Big D sighed.

Phyllis nodded, and pulled a tea bag out of a nearby canister. She wasn't sure what to think, either. Big D left the room, and tuned his wrist communicator to the coordinates of the Impossi-Mobile. He wanted to see if Multi and Coiley were making any headway in their search.

"Absolutely nothing, chief," Coiley said. "Multi, Skittles, and I have been going non-stop for days now, and nobody's seen _any_thing!"

"We _did_ get a couple of clues, but they led us nowhere," Multi explained. "Someone at a gas station said they saw the guy weeks ago, but he didn't know where he was going."

"We're right back where we started," Big D sighed. "Everyone who searched Megatropolis came up empty as well. And I'm starting to have my doubts that he's . . . . ."

"Yeah . . . . . actually . . . . ." Multi started. "Coiley and I are having those same doubts, Big D."

"We keep thinking that we _will_ eventually find him, but it'll be too late," Coiley admitted.

"No," Big D said. "I'm not ready to give in yet. Doubts or not, I will _not_ believe Fluid is dead until I have proof of it."

"Right, chief," Coiley said. "But how can we possibly find him without any clues?"

"I know," the chief said. "This is by far the most frustrating case the agency has ever faced in it's entire . . . . ."

Big D was suddenly cut off by a shrill scream, and the sound dishes breaking.

"What was that, chief?" Multi asked.

"I don't know," Big D said. "I'll call you boys back later."

"Okay, Big D," Coiley said. "Over and out!"

Big D signed off, and ran into the kitchen, where the noises had come from. When he got there, he found bits of broken china scattered on the floor, and Phyllis on her knees, sobbing with her face buried in her hands.

"Phyllis, what in the world . . . ." Big D started.

"He's dead! I just know it!" Phyllis shouted. "I just know he's dead!"

"What are you . . . . ." Big D started again, but, again, his sentence was interrupted by his granddaughter.

"I heard you talking to Multi and Coiley," she said. "And the entire agency's been talking about it, too. Chief, Fluey _can't_ still be alive after this long! He's dead, I know he is!"

"Phyllis, we don't have any proof that he is."

"We don't have any proof that he _isn't_, either! The police department called off the search, we can't find any clues, nobody knows what happened that day . . . . ."

"Phyllis, please, get a hold of yourself. We don't know for certain he's dead or not. I know I said I had my doubts, but I won't believe it until I get proof."

"I know, Big D, I know . . . . . it's just so frustrating! After the volunteers searched Megatropolis and came up with nothing, everybody began talking about how we should give up on this. Everybody's saying Fluey's dead, and that we're never going to find him."

"We _are_ going to find him. Mark my words, we _will_ find Fluid. Somehow or another, we'll get the clue we need. I absolutely will _not_ give up on this until he's found."

"But . . . . but all the other agents are convinced . . . . ."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a darn to what they think. As the old saying goes, it isn't over until it's over. And as far as I'm concerned, it's not over yet."

Phyllis nodded, but she wasn't really reassured. She stood up, and began picking up the broken china from the floor.

Things weren't any better by Monday. Coiley and Multi had checked in, and they still hadn't found anything. Quite a few of the agents were talking about the case behind the chief's back. Everyone, except the chief, Mike, Phyllis, Skittles, and the two Impossibles, was convinced that Fluey was dead. Some of them even speculated that he'd been dead since they day he disappeared.

"I haven't heard anything from Reed and Corden," Phyllis said, coming into the chief's office with a cup of coffee. "Are they still out there?"

"Yes, they're still searching with the cadaver dogs," Big D sighed. "I don't know what their views on the subject are, but I'm pretty sure they're looking for a corpse. Then again, I _was_ the one who sent the cadaver dogs out in the first place."

Phyllis sighed, nodded, and left. She had work to do. Big D heaved a sigh himself, and began massaging his forehead with his hands. He didn't know what else to do. He was just about to tune his desk console to the Impossi-Mobile's coordinates, when his phone rang. Big D found this a little odd, since most of his calls came through Phyllis's desk. Very few people knew his private line.

"Hello?" he said when he picked up the phone.

"Chief, this is Agent Corden," the voice on the other end said. "Reed and I are calling from a pay phone at a truck stop outside of Waldosburgh."

"Corden?" Big D asked, slightly confused. "What the devil are you doing calling on _this_ line? Is something wrong with your communicator?"

"Would you believe one of the dogs ate it?"

"Absolutely not! I would like a straight answer to this, if you please."

"Okay, okay. The truth is . . . . . I didn't want to call on my communicator, 'cause . . . . well . . . . . I really don't think I can face you at this moment, if you know what I mean."

"What happened?"

"Well . . . . . we, ahhh . . . . . . we found something that _might_ constitute as a lead, boss . . . . but . . . . eeehhhh . . . . . ."

"What, Corden? Tell me!"

"This really isn't easy to tell you, chief . . . . . hence why we're calling on a pay phone. But . . . . . geesh, I might as well just come to the point. We found what looks like Fluey's stage outfit buried out in the woods around here. They're torn to shreds, and covered in blood."

Upon hearing this, Big D dropped the receiver onto his desk, frozen in shock. He almost felt like his heart had stopped.


	19. The Torture Chamber

"Chief?" Corden asked. "Hey, chief, you still there?"

Big D quickly composed himself, and picked up the receiver.

"I'm still here, Corden," he said.

"You okay, Big D? I mean, I know this is kind of a blow, but . . . ."

"I know, Corden. After all, I _was_ the one who said I wanted every detail of whatever you found."

"So what do you want us to do, chief?"

"Send the clothing here to headquarters so we can have them analyzed, and stay where you are right now. I know this is going to sound absolutely crazy, but I don't want you and the others down there to do _any_thing until further notice."

"Yeah, okay, chief, we'll FedEx 'em so you get 'em tomorrow. And we'll wait at the hotel that's down the street from this truck stop, but . . . . . how come?"

"I need some time to get myself in order for one thing. If you found Fluid's clothes in the state they're in, then it's most likely the next thing you'll find . . . . ."

"Uhhh, yeah, I get the point, Big D. Okay, we'll wait for further instructions."

Big D hung up the phone, leaned against the desk, and held his head in his hands. He was dreading what he had to do next, and that was inform Phyllis, Multi, and Coiley. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell this to Shawn, FG, and Danalleah or not, though. He knew Phyllis would probably get hysterical, and he had a good feeling Danalleah would do. He wasn't sure about Shawn and FG, but he wasn't sure if he could deal with more than one case of hysterics at this point.

Besides which, he felt like he was about to lose it himself. But he knew he couldn't put this off. After composing himself, he pushed the button on his intercom.

"Phyllis, please have Agent Fluid Girl, Ms. Smith, Ms. Critch, and Agent Rogers report to my office," he said.

"Right away, chief," Phyllis said, then she got up to head for the communications department. Shortly thereafter, Phyllis, Mike, and the three girls entered the office.

"What's up, chief?" Phyllis asked.

"I'll let you know in a minute," Big D said, and he began tuning his desk console to the Impossi-Mobile's coordinates.

"Big D calling the Impossibles," he said.

"We read you, boss," Multi said. "What's up?"

"Are you still on the road?" Big D asked.

"Yeah," Multi said. "Why?"

"I want you to pull over immediately, boys."

"What's wrong chief?"

"A lot, I'm afraid."

"That don't sound good . . . . . ." Mike commented. The girls remained silent. Normally, someone would have corrected his bad grammar, but they were all too tense at this point to think about it.

"What's the latest, chief?" Coiley asked, the minute after he pulled the Impossi-Mobile onto the shoulder of the road.

"Corden called in," Big D said. "He, Reed, and the rest of the K-Nine unit found something around Waldosburgh. They found Fluid's clothes, and they informed me that they had been torn to shreds and were covered in blood."

"Oh my god . . . . ." Phyllis said.

"_What_?" both Coiley and Multi shouted in unison.

"Whoa boy . . . . ." Mike said.

"Does that mean what I _think_ it means?" Shawn asked, nervously.

"Maybe," Big D said. "I'm not one hundred percent sure. I told Corden to send some of what they found back here so I can have the pieces analyzed."

"You want to make sure the blood is definitely Fluey's?" FG asked.

"Yes," Big D said. "Multi and Coil, I want you to get Reed and Corden's coordinates and track them down. Once you meet with them, await further instructions."

"Right, Big D!" Multi and Coiley shouted, and then they signed off.

"What do you want us to do, chief?" Shawn asked.

"I don't think there's much you girls _can_ do in this situation, I'm afraid," Big D said. "Except go back to the mail room and resume normal duty. Same with you, Rogers."

"Yeah, check," Mike said. "Eeesh. This isn't lookin' too good, is it, chief?"

"No, it isn't," Big D sighed.

And with that, Mike and the girls left Big D's office, while the chief sat down to do some more paperwork. The girls returned to the mail room, and Phyllis sat down at her own desk, holding her hand to her head.

"Just when I think this can't _pos_sibly get any worse, it gets worse," she said.

"I hear ya," Mike said. "But there's at least _some_ good news. They only found Fluey's clothes, and not his body. Maybe we'll get lucky, and it'll just be fake blood, or maybe not even Fluey's blood after the lab guys get done analyzin' it."

"I hope so. Ooooh . . . . . I don't know how much more of this I'll be able to handle."

The mailroom wasn't a barrel of laughs, either. The minute the girls got back down there, Danalleah burst into tears.

"Take it easy, Danalleah," Shawn said. "It's not the end of the world. Fluey could still be alive."

"Just because they found his clothes doesn't mean . . . . ." FG began.

"I know Fluey could still be alive," Danalleah said. "But for how long? We don't know where he is, and we don't know how to find out! Some witch _I_ am. You'd think I'd be able to cast a spell and bring him back, but . . . . ."

"You're still learning, Danalleah," Shawn said. "Nobody expects you to be able to do anything about this situation."

"Yeah, it's too big for you to handle," FG pointed out.

"I guess you guys are right," Danalleah said. "I'm just worried."

"So are the rest of us," Shawn sighed.

While the SSHQ was trying to figure out what to do next, things were going on elsewhere.

Fluey began coming to his senses, but he still felt pretty out of it, and his head was killing him. He noticed he was in a dim room, laying on a towel on the floor, which had to be made out of concrete. He groaned, and started to sit up, but gave up. He was too tired. He also realized the towel he was laying on was the same one he had used to tie around his waist before Jake hit him over the head. Realizing this, Fluey moaned. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wondering if Jake had actually "played" with him while he was unconscious. He grabbed the towel, and wrapped it around his waist. Then, he leaned against the wall for support, and managed to stand, though he was a little unsteady, and he felt dizzy.

Once the dizzy spell passed, Fluey let his eyes adjust to the dim light, and he looked around the room. The basement was obviously unfinished, considering the concrete floor, a lone hanging lightbulb, and exposed pipes. The windows were pretty high up, and boarded up as well. Fluey also noticed a large table in one corner of the room, and a crowbar laying near it. He figured if he could push it toward one of the windows, he'd be able to use the crowbar to pry the boards off and escape. When he reached the table, he tried to push it, but it was too heavy to move. He also noticed the table had various straps attached to it. There were various objects on the table as well, such as the chain Jake had used to hit him with, a large pair of pincers, and, to his complete horror, a butcher knife, which had traces of dried blood on it. Fluey gasped, and backed away from the table, until he hit something on the wall. He turned around, and saw a variety of cuffs and chains attached to the wall. Immediately, Fluey backed away from them.

"Holy Mesopotamia . . . . ." he said, nervously. "He's got me locked inside a torture chamber!"

Fluey knew he had to get out of there, and fast. The question was how to do it. The door was locked, and there wasn't any other way out. As he was standing there, his mind racing, he heard a door open, and a little more light filled part of the room. Fluey looked up, and saw Jake standing at the top of the stairs.

"Are we awake, Little Maggot?" he asked. "Are we still asleep?"

Jake came down the stairs, and Fluey looked at him, nervously. His captor was holding something in his hand, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Well, hello, Little Maggot," Jake said. "Looks like we woke up, didn't we?"

Fluey didn't answer. He couldn't. He felt like his heart was beating in his throat, and that it was beating so hard and fast, it was going to punch through his chest any second. He just began backing away, until Jake had cornered him against the wall.

"What's the matter?" Jake asked, as he reached over and began stroking Fluey's hair, leaning into Fluey's face as close as he possibly could. "Is Little Maggot scared? Does Little Maggot think ol' Jake played with him while he was having nap time? Ol' Jake certainly could have, couldn't he?"

Fluey bit his lower lip nervously. Jake was definitely _way_ too close for comfort.

"Don't get so uptight, Maggot," Jake said. "I didn't even touch you."

That didn't set Fluey's mind at ease one bit. Finally, Jake backed off, but he wasn't going to leave. Instead, he grabbed Fluey by the hair, and threw him to the floor as hard as he could. Then he kicked Fluey in the stomach as hard as he could, which knocked the wind out of the dark-haired teenager. Then he walked over to the table, grabbed the chain, and immediately began striking Fluey in the back with it as soon as he returned to his captive. Fluey covered his face with his arms and shrieked in agony, begging for Jake to stop. Jake finally stopped, but only when Fluey was practically beaten black and blue, and reduced to tears, just like before.

"Come on, get up," Jake said.

Fluey moaned, and tried to get up. It took a great deal of effort, but he couldn't make it. He had felt like he had fallen and couldn't get up.

"Get up!" Jake ordered.

"I . . . . I c-c-c-_can't_!" Fluey shouted, straining. He was trying to push himself up, but his arms wouldn't support him, and he crashed down.

Jake said nothing. Fluey just decided to lay right where he was, trying to catch his breath, and compose himself. Suddenly, he heard a crackle of electricity, and felt a shock go through his body. He let out a scream, and then looked over at Jake, who was smiling and holding an electric cattle prod in his hand.

"Oh _bro_ther . . . ." Fluey moaned.

"On your feet, Maggot!" Jake shouted, and he used the cattle prod on Fluey again. The dark-haired Impossible screamed in pain, and tried once more to get up, but it was useless.

"I told you to get up!" Jake shouted.

"And I told you I ca-_aaaahhh_!" Fluey screamed in mid-sentence, just as Jake used the cattle prod on him again.

Fluey moaned, and tried to get up once more. _Any_thing to avoid yet another jolt of electricity. Unfortunately, Jake had other ideas. As Fluey was doing his best to get up, Jake continued using that cattle prod on him, laughing like crazy every time. He was enjoying this. Fluey couldn't take anymore of the strain, and finally collapsed.

"Had enough, Little Maggot?" Jake asked.

"No more . . . . ." Fluey moaned, trying to catch his breath. "P-please . . . . I c-can't t-t-take it . . . ."

"Just remember one thing, Maggot," Jake said, and he started up the stairs. "If you'd been a good little boy and cooperated, this wouldn't be happening. And it's too late to turn back now. Even if you _did_ agree to cooperate, it won't do you any good."

Jake then slammed the door shut, and locked it. Fluey moaned. The Shadow incident seemed like a walk in the park compared to this! He dreaded to think what would be next. Even _thinking_ about it was too much! He folded his arms in front of him, rested his head on them, and fell asleep.


	20. Revelations

The next morning, the chief sat at his desk, drumming his fingers against it, trying to remain alert, which wasn't easy. He had gotten very little sleep the night before. His mind kept focusing on the worst case scenario since Corden called in. He just couldn't shake the feeling that Fluey was dead. He didn't want to believe it, that was for sure, but for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about that.

Suddenly, Big D's intercom buzzed, which broke him out of his thoughts.

"Yes?" he asked, pushing the button.

"Chief, FG's up here with a FedEx package," Phyllis said over the intercom.

"All right," Big D said. "Send her in."

And with that, FG opened the door to Big D's office, and walked in.

"Hi, chief," she said. "Here it is."

"Good," Big D said, taking the box. He immediately opened it, though he was dreading it.

Phyllis and FG stood in the doorway, watching. FG was wringing her hands and Phyllis was twirling her hair. Once the box was open, Big D reached inside, and pulled out a large paper bag. He slowly opened it, and looked inside. Then he heaved a sigh, and closed the bag, and handed it to Phyllis.

"Take this to Dr. Phelps," he said, grimly. "Tell him I would like those analyzed ASAP."

"I guess that means we don't need to ask what's in there, chief," FG said.

Big D said nothing. He just stood there. Phyllis cleared her throat, and handed the bag to FG.

"Would you mind doing this?" she asked. "I'm not sure I can handle it."

"Sure," FG said, taking the bag. "Hang in there, you guys."

And with that, FG took the bag, and went to the elevator to get down to the infirmary. Phyllis was about to go back to her desk, but she turned toward the chief.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Fine," Big D replied, sounding a bit tense. Phyllis took that as a hint, and she left the office so she could get some work done.

Elsewhere, Multi and Coiley were landing the Impossi-Jet outside of a hotel in Waldosburgh. When Big D told them to track down Reed and Corden, they had converted to Impossi-Jet, since they wanted to meet up with them, and the rest of the K-9 unit pretty fast. Reed and Corden were standing in the parking lot, waiting for them.

"Hi, fellas," Coiley said.

"Hi," Reed said, reaching over to scratch Skittles behind the ears. "Any news on the stuff we sent back to HQ?"

"Not yet," Multi said. "And we're all pretty much on edge over it, ever since you called the chief with what you found."

"I hear ya," Corden said. "Believe me, boys, we weren't a barrel of monkeys when we _found_ Fluey's clothes in the first place."

"I wonder why the chief had us track you guys down, anyway?" Coiley asked.

"Maybe he figures you two and Skittles may be able to help find a body," Reed said, shrugging. In response, Skittles growled a little at him, and the others gave him a glare. Reed was oblivious to this.

"Well, there's not much we can do right now until we hear from the chief," Multi said, shrugging. "But seriously, Reed, you don't actually _think_ . . . . ."

"I don't know _what_ to think," Reed said, shrugging. "To tell you the truth, Multi, I certainly hope we _don't_ find a body, but realistically speaking . . . . ."

"Yeah, I get the point," Multi said.

"There's still a chance that Fluey's alive, though," Reed went on. "It's a slim one, but it's there."

"Until the test results come in, all we can do for right now is wait," Coiley said.

The others agreed on that one. Skittles whimpered, jumped out of Multi's arms, and went to the other dogs. A couple of them were sleeping, so Skittles went over to them, and cuddled up next to one of the German shepherds. He gave Skittles a friendly lick, yawned, and went back to sleep.

A couple of hours passed. Shawn, Danalleah, and FG were in the forensics lab of the building, waiting for Dr. Phelps and some of the other agents to finish their testing on Fluey's clothes, and they were being pretty devious about it. The three of them were leaning against the wall, trying to listen via water glass Shawn was holding.

"Can you hear anything?" FG asked.

"Not much," Shawn said. "Just a bunch of mumbling."

"I don't get it," Danalleah said. "This method _always_ works in the movies!"

"We don't have the same type of materials built into this building as they do in the movies, young ladies," a voice said. The girls looked up and saw Big D standing there, with his arms folded across his chest. He didn't look very happy, either. Immediately, the girls stood up straight, and Shawn tried to hide the glass.

"Uhh, hi, chief," she said.

"And what, may I ask, were you three doing?" Big D asked.

The girls just stood there, stammering, and looking in every direction possible, except at the chief. Big D heaved a sigh, and sat down on the couch in the waiting room.

"Probably the same thing I'm doing down here," he said. "Waiting for information."

"Pretty much," FG said, shrugging.

"We've been climbing the walls, chief," Danalleah said. "They've been in there for _hours_! How much longer do we have to wait?"

"Not much longer," Dr. Phelps said, coming out of the lab. Big D and the girls noticed the grim look on his face.

"Bad news, I take it," the chief said.

"Unfortunately, yes," Dr. Phelps sighed. "We checked, and double checked, and tested, and re-tested . . . . we did every test imaginable, but everything pointed to the same thing. The blood stains on the clothes were a perfect match with the blood sample I have of Fluey."

"Oh no!" Danalleah cried.

"I was afraid of that," Big D said. "Give me the details, Phelps."

"You sure?" Dr. Phelps asked.

"Positive," Big D said. "I want as many details as you can give me."

"If it's all the same to you guys . . . ." Danalleah said. "I think I'm gonna go back to the mail room."

"Yeah, us too," Shawn said.

"I'd better go call my mom and give her an update," FG said. "She and my dad have been following the case."

And with that, the girls left. Big D and Dr. Phelps really couldn't blame them. Once they were gone, Dr. Phelps took a deep breath.

"There was something that looked like a bullet hole in one of the pieces," he said. "But I can't for the life of me figure out what type of gun. Also, by the looks of the way the clothes were torn up, I'd say he was either shot, or stabbed . . . . ."

"Or quite possibly both," Big D said. "What are the survival chances?"

"Well . . . . . chief, I'm just gonna come right out and say it, though I really hate to. I honestly don't think Fluey could possibly still be alive, if his clothes are any indication. Whoever took him probably buried his body separately. And who knows where he could have buried it."

"I see. Were there any indications of who might have . . . . ."

"Not a one. I'm sorry, chief, but I don't think Fluey's still alive."

"You're entitled to your opinion, Phelps, but I refuse to believe my grandson is dead until they find a body."

And with that, the chief left the lab. He had to relay the news to Coiley, Multi, and the K-9 unit, plus he had to give Phyllis the update. And he knew _that_ wasn't going to be easy. Luckily for him, he had some time to prepare what he was going to tell her. She wasn't at her desk. Big D figured she was down in Mike's hanger, watching him hammer dents out of some car or another.

"When will this living nightmare end?" he asked himself, as he walked into his office.

Elsewhere, Fluey was beginning to wonder the same thing. Jake had been beating up on him since early that morning. It started when he doused the dark-haired teen with a bucket of ice water, which definitely woke him up. Then he began striking him with the chain. Afterwards, Jake grabbed him by the hair, and threw him against the wall a couple of times. Then, he dragged Fluey up to the top of the stairs by the arm, and threw him down the basement stairs. Fluey considered himself lucky Jake hadn't broken any of his bones. Not yet, anyway. But Fluey was ready to throw in the towel by now, anyway.

"Please . . . . ." he moaned. "Please just kill me quickly and get it over with!"

"Now where's the fun in that?" Jake asked. "What's the matter? Can't take it any longer? Well, that's just too bad for you, Maggot. This is what you get when you don't cooperate. See, the others cooperated!"

"Others?" Fluey asked. "What . . . . what others?"

"Well, let's see . . . . . there was Michael Connors about two years ago. I asked him for directions, and the sap just climbed into the van to show me where to go. He was easy. He was scared stiff, he let me do whatever I wanted with him. It was kinda fun to see him begging for me to let him go. He even promised be he wouldn't tell anyone. But I just couldn't have taken the chance. We were outside Megatropolis right after I offed him, so I buried him there."

_That must've been the skeleton we found in the woods,_ Fluey thought.

"Now, with Toby Wooten," Jake went on. "I found him outside of a bowling alley. I was watching him and his friends, see. His friends left, and he didn't want to go home, so I offered to bowl with him for awhile. I got him good and drunk, too. It's simply amazing what some teenagers will do for a little booze. Heh. The brat didn't even know what hit him. I kept promising him booze, and for payment . . . . . well, you get the idea. Finally, he caught on, and said he was gonna squeal, so . . . . ."

Fluey bit his lower lip, growing more and more nervous by the minute. Jake didn't seem to notice.

"Harvey Duncan I got when I was posing as a tape recorder tester," he said. "He was pretty cooperative. He did everything I told him. But I just couldn't let him go, you understand. I just couldn't take a risk. That other kid I picked up outside Megatropolis was about the same as you, only slightly less so. I didn't even get a chance to get him back here. The minute I was done playing with him in the back of my van, he jumped right out of the doors, and I had no choice but to shoot him. He was still alive, so taught him a lesson. A _permanent_ lesson. I heard the body was found. Looks like Billy Bradley got his wish to be famous after all."

_I knew it!_ Fluey thought. _I knew he had something to do with Billy's disappearance!_

"Now, I've got to go to work," Jake went on, grabbing a syringe. "But when I get back, we'll pick up where we left off."

Jake then stuck the needle into the side of Fluey's neck, hard. Fluey hissed in pain, as immediately began feeling drowsy. He barely had time to react to the shot before he passed out. Jake merely smirked, and went up the stairs, locking the basement door behind him.

Things weren't that much better in Megatropolis. Big D had let the other two Impossibles and Phyllis, as well as Mike, know about the test results. The trouble was what to do next.

"You want to call K-Nine and get them to continue searchin', chief?" Mike asked.

"I don't know," Big D said. "In a way, I'm kind of afraid to. I'm afraid of what they might find."

"So am I," Phyllis said, clutching Mike's hand.

"However, I'm also sick and tired of sitting around here and waiting for information," Big D said, standing up. "Rogers, arrange for one of the jets to pick up the coordinates of Reed, or Corden, or the other two Impossibles. We're going to track them down, and we need to get to their location as quickly as possible."

"We'll have to use the big one," Mike said. "The one with the cargo hold intended for vehicles."

"Is it the only one available?" Phyllis asked.

"No, it's the only one that my bike will fit in," Mike said. "I'm goin' with you on this one, chief. My bike's trackers _might _come in handy, and I'm the only one who knows how they works."

"Fine, fine," Big D said. "Phyllis, get Phelps up here and tell him he's in charge until further notice."

"Right," Phyllis said. "I'll also get the girls to go on rotation to fill in for me because I'm joining in on this."

"Phyllis, please . . . . ." Big D groaned.

"Look, I'm just about as sick and tired of waiting around here for information as you are, Big D!" Phyllis shouted. "I don't want to wait around anymore. I want to _do_ something about this!"

"It's going to be pointless to argue," Big D sighed. "You'll find a way to go along no matter what. Let's save a lot of time and trouble."

"Thanks, chief," Phyllis said, and she ran outside to her desk to make the necessary calls. Mike went down to the hangar to get the guys in charge of the jets on this. Big D tuned his desk console to Coiley's guitar.

"Coil, tell Multi and K-Nine to stand by," he said. "I'm heading out your way. Do not do _any_thing until I arrive."

"Right, chief," Coiley said. "You know, we were all wondering how long it was going to take you to join in the search."

"I'm in no mood for jokes, Coil."

"Sorry, Big D. I was just trying to lighten the mood a little, considering . . . . ."

"I know, and quite frankly, I don't want to hear it."

"Gotcha chief. Over and out."

By the time Big D signed off, Mike and Phyllis returned to his office, with Dr. Phelps and Shawn behind them.

"Jet's all set," Mike said. "My bike's stashed in the cargo and we are ready to roll when you are, boss."

"Excellent," Big D said. "Let's get going. We have a lot of ground to cover.


	21. The Beginning of the End

Coiley, Multi, Skittles, and the K-9 unit were waiting for the chief, Mike, and Phyllis when they arrived to their location. Luckily, they agreed to meet in a large field nearby with plenty of landing space. Once the jet landed, the cargo doors opened, and Mike came racing out on his motorcycle. Big D and Phyllis followed.

"How are you holding up, chief?" Multi asked.

"I'd feel a lot better if this whole mess was over," Big D said. Skittles walked over to Big D and whimpered, pawing at his leg. The chief picked up the super puppy, and began scratching her behind the ears.

"How do you want us to do this, boss?" Reed asked.

"I want you and Corden to take us to where you found Fluid's clothes," Big D said. "We'll split up from there."

"Right," Reed said. "Good thing we placed a marker where we found 'em."

And with that, the search party was off. Once they reached the area where the K-9 unit found Fluey's clothes, Big D divided the agents into groups, and split them up around the area. He had Multi go with Mike on his motorcycle, and Coiley go with Agent Corden and one half of the K-9 unit. He and Phyllis were going to go with Agent Reed and the other half of K-9.

"I know you boys would rather stick together," Big D said, about ready to hand Skittles back to her master. "But I'd feel a lot better if . . . . ."

"We get the message, Big D," Multi said, as he put on the spare motorcycle helmet Mike always carried. "Considering the perpetrator's modus operandi."

Skittles began whining the moment Multi took her, and began squirming all of a sudden. Multi understood exactly what she was doing.

"Why don't you hang on to Skittles for awhile, chief?" he suggested. "I, uhhh . . . . . I think she's afraid to ride on Mike's bike."

"Very well," Big D said, taking the little super pup back. "That is, if it's all right with her."

In response Skittles barked, and nodded. She wasn't really afraid to ride on Mike's motorcycle. As a matter of fact, she'd probably love it. She loved the feel of the wind in her ears and face. She just wanted to stay with the chief because she knew she was needed with him more than with Multi. Even though Big D wouldn't admit it, Skittles knew he needed her Cuddle Therapy now, more than ever before.

"You want one of the dogs to go with Mike, boss?" one of the dog handlers asked.

"I don't think it's necessary, chief," Mike said. "I've got a trackin' system in my bike, as well as an X-ray vision module hooked up in my helmet."

"X-ray vision?" Big D asked.

"Yeah, Reggie and I wired it months ago," Mike went on. "I just never had the need to use it until now. It can see through anythin'."

"Very well," Big D said. "Just don't use it for anything other than agency matters."

"Come on, chief!" Mike shouted. "Would I do somethin' like that?"

"You said it could see through anything, didn't you?" Big D asked, giving Mike a knowing look. "I know the way the mind of a young man works, Rogers. Especially one your age."

"Chief!" Phyllis shouted, giving Big D a swat in the arm.

"Yeah, uhh, gotcha, boss," Mike said, clearing his throat. "I'll turn it on once we're out in the woods a little farther."

"Good," Big D said. Phyllis rolled her eyes. Even in a moment of crisis, Big D was still being an overprotective parent.

That being said, the groups then split up in order to cover the area.

"I think this is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Multi said.

"Yeah, you said it," Mike said. He flipped the visor of his helmet down, and pushed a button on the side of it.

"Activating the X-ray vision thing?" Multi asked.

"Yep. With any luck, it'll be able to help us locate anythin' that's buried underground."

"Just in case . . . . . right?"

"Right."

Multi and Mike were thinking the exact same thing by this point. They knew they were only out there to locate Fluey's remains. They didn't have any high hopes that Fluey was even still alive. He couldn't have been, not with the state his clothes were in.

Meanwhile, Fluey was beginning to wake up from his latest dose of whatever the heck Jake was injecting into his system. He was shaking by this point, and he couldn't even think straight. It would appear that Jake might have given him one injection too many.

"No . . . . . more . . . . ." he stammered, as he struggled to get to his feet. "Ca-ca-can't take . . . . . any . . . . more . . . ."

Fluey had to brace himself against the wall in order to get up on his feet. He looked around Jake's basement frantically, and saw the staircase. He began crawling up the stairs for the door. Of course, it was locked. But that didn't stop Fluey, not in the mental state he was in. He kept trying to turn the doorknob, as well as banging on the door as hard as he possibly could, and screaming incoherently at the top of his lungs.

"Out . . . . ." he mumbled as he desperately tried to pry the doorknob off the door. "Out, out, out, out!"

Fluey kept this up until he heard a click. Then the door opened. He looked up and saw Jake standing there, and he didn't look happy.

"All right, Maggot," he said. It was obvious he was also drunk. "I just got back from work, and the last thing I wanna hear is . . . . ."

Jake didn't get a chance to finish that sentence. Fluey suddenly grabbed him by the shirt collar, and yanked him down to the floor. Then he took off like a shot, straight out the back door of the house, and into the woods. Jake began standing up, slightly dazed.

"That stupid little . . . . ." he grumbled, walking over to a drawer. There, he pulled out a small gun, and loaded some bullets into it.

"Wait'll I get my hands on him!" he shouted, as he went out the back door himself.

Fluey had run along the path that led up to the house, and then suddenly stopped. He had no idea where to go. He stood there and looked around, frantically. Suddenly, he heard a gunshot, which missed him by a mile. He turned around, and saw Jake standing on the back porch of the house, holding his gun. Fluey immediately ran off the path. Jake kept firing his gun, running after him.

Fluey kept right on running, pushing past tree branches, much like his attempted escape weeks ago. Jake, though drunk as he was, managed to follow Fluey's trail, firing his gun every chance he could. It was a good thing he _was_ drunk, though. He couldn't keep his hand steady, and kept missing his target. He managed to catch up to Fluey, and fired again, but all he got was a clicking noise. He had run out of ammo. Cursing, Jake flung the gun to the ground, and continued to run after his captive.

"I gotta catch him before he reaches the highway!" he growled.

Fluey kept right on running. He knew he couldn't stop for anything.

"Keep going, keep going, keep going . . . . ." he said to himself, over and over again.

Suddenly, the end of the woods was in sight, and Fluey could see a stretch of road. He was about to race for it, when suddenly, Jake caught up to him, and dove for him. He managed to grab Fluey's legs in the dive, and both of them crashed to the ground.

"You're not going anywhere, Maggot!" Jake growled. He grabbed a large stick and hit Fluey in the head with it. Luckily, Fluey wasn't knocked out, and he began trying to fight Jake off. He was kicking at him, and clawing at him with his fingers, trying to do _any_thing he could. Jake kept striking at Fluey with that stick, and got a few good knocks in. Fluey finally couldn't take anymore, and he collapsed, banging the back of his head on the pavement. He let out a howl of pain the minute he landed, and starting moaning. Miraculously, he hadn't been knocked unconscious yet.

"You're pa_thet_ic, Maggot!" Jake shouted. "Whining like a little baby . . . . it's pitiful!"

Jake then pulled another syringe out of his pocket, and bent down towards Fluey. The dark-haired Impossible let out a shriek, and grabbed Jake's wrist with both his hands.

"Let go of that you little . . . . . ." Jake began.

Fluey fought against being injected again. At one point during the struggle, the syringe went flying. It hit the pavement, and shattered. Jake grabbed his stick once more, and hit Fluey in the head with it as hard as he possibly could. This blow knocked the dark-haired teen unconscious. Jake stood up, tossed the stick aside, picked up his captive, and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"That's the last straw, Maggot!" he shouted. "You just stepped over the line. You're going back to the basement, and you're _never_ coming out again!"

Shortly thereafter, a lone car was coming up the stretch of road. It happened to be a rookie police officer, trying to beat rush hour traffic. As he was driving along, he ran over something in the road.

KA-POW!

"Darn it," the cop grumbled, as he hit the brakes. "A blow out."

The cop climbed out of his car, and went to change his tire. When he got the old tire off, he noticed something was embedded in it.

"Looks like a piece of glass," he said. He looked around, and noticed several small pieces of glass in the road, along with a needle.

"What the heck?" he asked, once he saw what looked like a puddle of blood close by, which led to a trail of blood heading into the woods. The cop then went to the radio in his car.

"Officer Howard to HQ," he said. "I'm going to look into something suspicious in the woods. Over."

And with that, Officer Howard followed the bloody trail. It led up to a house. Officer Howard followed it up to the back door, and he noticed there was someone inside, and it looked like he was cleaning a large knife of sorts. He then knocked on the door.

"Open up, this is the police!" he shouted.

Jake had been cleaning off a large butcher knife when Officer Howard knocked on the door. He muttered a curse under his breath, and put the knife on the table. Then he got up and looked out the curtain of the back door window, and growled.

"A cop," he grumbled. "Just about the _last_ thing I need right now . . . . ."

Jake then took a deep breath, mentally counted to ten to control his temper, stood up straight, and calmly opened the door.

"Good evening, officer," he said. "How may I help you?"

"My car got a flat out on the road," Officer Howard said. "While I was changing it, I noticed there was some blood out on the road, as well as a trail of blood that led right up to your house . . . . not to mention there's blood on your floor here that's leading right to that door."

"Oh," Jake said. "I was out hunting this afternoon. Got me a nice, fat deer. I was just about to cook me a venison steak dinner."

"I see," Officer Howard said, looking around. "How 'bout that knife on the table, there?"

"I use that to cut up the venison," Jake said. "Ever have venison steak, officer? 'Specially with a nice Merlot?"

"No, can't say that I have . . . . . what's behind that door, sir?"

"Oh that leads to the basement. That's where I keep all my game."

"Would you mind if I had a look?"

"If you insist, officer."

Jake unlocked the door and allowed Officer Howard to take a look. The policeman slowly walked down the basement stairs, trying to find a light switch. He finally found the chord to the solitary light bulb down there and pulled on it. As soon as the light came on, Officer Howard noticed there was blood on the steps, and on the floor. It led to the corner of the room. Fluey had regained consciousness only moments ago. He was sitting in that corner with his knees pulled up to his chest, shaking nervously.

"What the heck?" Officer Howard asked, as he walked toward Fluey. Fluey looked up at the officer, and gasped.

"What's the matter?" Officer Howard asked.

Before anything else could happen, Jake plunged his butcher knife right into the policeman's back. Officer Howard let out a scream, and then fell to the floor. Jake walked over to him and stabbed him a couple more times. Fluey just watched him, frozen with fear. As a final blow, Jake slashed the policeman's throat, just to be sure he was dead. Then he got up, grabbed a black trash bag from a box, and a roll of duct tape. He wrapped the officer's corpse in the bag, and wound duct tape around it at various points. Then he flung the bag over his shoulder.

"Delays, delays," he grumbled. "Now I gotta go take care of _this _before I can take care of you, Maggot. Hope you were paying attention. 'Cause I'm gonna do the exact same thing to you the minute I get back!"

Jake then went up the stairs with the cop's body, laughing hysterically. He slammed the basement door shut, and locked it, but Fluey could still hear the maniacal laughter. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and rested his head on them. It was about all he could do


	22. Reunited

It was getting late, and the SSHQ hadn't come up with anything. They had searched the area with the proverbial fine tooth comb, looked in every nook and cranny, and left no stone unturned. Big D was getting more and more frustrated by the minute. He didn't know if he would be able to continue. Skittles began whimpering, and snuggled against the chief's arms. In turn, Big D scratched her head.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Phyllis sighed. "This _could_ mean Fluey's still alive, you know."

"That _is_ true," Big D said. "But in all honesty . . . . . it's just no use."

Big D sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted, and couldn't take any more of this. He handed Skittles over to Phyllis, and activated his communicator.

"Attention all agents," he said, locking in on a multi-signal to Coiley, Multi, Mike, and K-9. "Please report back to the makeshift base immediately. I'll explain more once everyone is there."

Fifteen to twenty minutes later, the group of searchers gathered at the place where Fluey's clothes were located. Big D was silent for a few minutes, and continued to scratch Skittles behind the ears. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Well . . . . ." he began. "As much as I hate to do this, I'm calling off the search."

"What?" Multi asked. "What for?"

"We're searching for a needle in a haystack," Big D continued. "I simply _can't_ continue like this."

"Yeah, we've been out here looking and looking and looking for weeks," Corden said. "And nobody's found _any_thing! I say we call it quits!"

"Well, if we can't find anything," Coiley said, "can't we take that to mean Fluey could still be alive?"

"I know," Big D said. "But . . . . . I don't know, I just don't think it's possible that . . . ."

"I agree," Reed said. "We had the search and rescue dogs cover every area we covered with the cadaver dogs. And _they_ haven't found anything, either!"

Big D held his hand against his forehead, massaging it. Nobody could really blame him for wanting to drop this. They couldn't see how in the world they were even going to solve the case, either. There were absolutely no clues to work with. In the end, everyone decided to head back to Megatropolis.

"You okay, boss?" Coiley asked, as he and Multi walked over to the Impossi-Mobile.

"Yes, fine," Big D said (though lying through his teeth). Then he climbed into the Impossi-Mobile, and Skittles immediately jumped into his lap, and began snuggling. She knew the chief needed her Cuddle Therapy, big time. Big D began petting her.

"I ordered the jet to return to headquarters immediately after Phyllis, Rogers, and I arrived here," he said. "And since Phyllis has gone off with Rogers on the back of his motorcycle . . . . ."

"Gotcha, chief," Coiley said, as he and Multi climbed into the car. Coiley started the engine, and converted to Impossi-Jet.

After about an hour, Big D's wrist communicator began going off.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Us, chief," Mike said, as his image appeared on the screen. "Phyl and I were cruisin' along a back road, tryin' to beat the traffic, and we ran across somethin' you might want to come and take a look at, 'cause it's kinda strange . . . . . and Phyllis said she was gettin' a funny feelin' about it. Women's intuition, you know?"

"Not a body, I hope."

"Nooooo . . . . . but we've found some blood and broken glass by a police car out here, and there's no cop in sight."

"Stay where you two are, and turn on your trackers so we can find you."

"Check, boss. Rogers out."

Immediately, Coiley tuned the Impossi-Jet's trackers onto Mike's communicator, and followed the signal. When they arrived, they got out, and immediately began investigating. Multi took three flashlights out of the Impossi-Jet's glove compartment. He kept one, and handed the other two to Coiley and the chief.

"Kind of weird to see an abandoned police car on a back road," he said, pointing his flashlight at the car. "Looks like it got a flat tire."

"Also looks like someone up and left in the middle of changing the tire," Mike said, pointing his own flashlight to the spare tire sitting on the side of the road. "But what gets me is the blood."

"Normally, I'd say somebody tossed a glass bottle out their window," Coiley said. "And the police car drove over a piece of broken glass and cut himself on it if it was imbedded in his tire . . . . . but there's too much blood here for that to be the case."

Skittles began sniffing at the blood, and suddenly let out a startled yip. Then she began barking like crazy, and went into her pointer routine.

_POING!_

"Hmmm . . . ." Big D said, shining his flashlight in the direction Skittles was pointing. "It would appear to be a trail of blood."

"I don't like the looks of this," Coiley commented.

"I'm getting deja vu," Phyllis said. "Weren't these circumstances about the same during the Shadow incident?"

"There's only one way to find out," Big D said. "We're going to have to follow the trail. Rogers, bring your motorcycle helmet. We may need that x-ray vision you built into it."

"Right, boss," Mike said, grabbing his bike helmet.

Multi then bent down, and clipped Skittles's leash to her collar.

"Okay, Impossi-Pup," he said. "You lead the way."

Skittles stood up on her hind legs, barked, and saluted her master. Then she began following the trail. She didn't want to go at her super speed, since it was so dark out. As the group was walking, Coiley suddenly stopped.

"Hey, fellas!" he called out. "I found something a little out of the ordinary . . . ."

"What is it, Coiley?" Multi asked. Coiley said nothing, and picked up a small handgun.

"It's empty," he assured the others. "But what's it doing way out here?"

"Maybe somebody was huntin' around here," Mike said, shrugging.

"With a hand gun?" Phyllis asked, giving him a weird look.

"I doubt they'd catch any game with a gun this size," Big D said.

Skittles whimpered, and she started tugging at her leash. The group took that to mean they should keep going. Suddenly, Skittles went into her pointer routine again, and pointed at an old house. Multi shined his flashlight at it, and looked it over.

"The trail leads right to the back door of this place," he said. "It doesn't look like anyone's home."

"Check out the windows," Mike said. "A couple of 'em have bars on 'em, and more are boarded up."

"That's kind of strange," Coiley said.

The group continued looking around the area. When Mike pointed his flashlight toward an unknown object, Phyllis let out a loud gasp, and nearly fainted.

"The van!" she shouted. The others heard her and ran over.

"What's the matter?" Multi asked.

"A white van," Phyllis said. "Like the one parked across the street watching us the day before Fluey disappeared. I don't know if it's the same one, but . . . . ."

"But why would a van be parked out here in the middle of nowhere?" Big D asked.

Before anyone could answer, Skittles began barking hysterically, and whimpering as she started pawing at the boards over the windows. The others looked at each other, and ran over to the super puppy.

"Rogers," Big D said, glancing at the mechanic. "Put that x-ray vision helmet to use."

"Gotcha, chief," Mike said. He put on his helmet, lowered the visor, and pushed a button on the side of it.

"Eee-_eesh_!" Mike shouted. "Whoever owns this place is one sick little puppy!"

"What do you mean?" Coiley asked. "What's in there?"

"Looks like some kinda torture chamber . . . ." Mike said. "Chains on the walls . . . . a hammer . . . . . crowbar . . . . . some kinda table . . . . . I don't think I _want_ to know what those pincers are used for . . . ."

"I don't know if _I_ even want to know, either!" Multi shouted.

"Some other tools," Mike went on. "Blood stains, and . . . . . holy Mesopotamia!"

"What?" Coiley asked, anxiously. "What is it?"

"Fluey!" Mike shouted, yanking off his helmet.

"_What_?" Big D shouted.

"Fluey's down in that torture chamber!" Mike shouted. "He's sort of huddled in a corner down there, but he's alive, at least."

"We've gotta get in there!" Coiley shouted.

Multi was way ahead of his team mate in that regard. He ran up the back steps, and turned the handle on the door, expecting it to be locked. To his surprise, it wasn't!

"Come on!" he called to the others. "We'd better be careful, though. Whoever lives here _might_ be around."

The others agreed, and quietly walked inside. They found the bloody trail continued, right to another door. Multi tried the knob, and found this one was locked. He took a bobby pin out of his pocket.

"Someone hold the flashlight up so I can see what I'm doing," he said.

"Got it," Coiley said, springing his arm forward. This would give Multi the light he needed, as well as giving him enough room to work. It only took a few seconds, but it seemed longer than that when Multi got the door unlocked.

"Come on," he said.

The group slowly and quietly walked down the stairs. Mike found the chord to turn the lights on, and pulled it. It didn't help much, but at least the group could turn off their flashlights. Skittles sniffed around a little, and launched into her pointer routine. The others followed her, and found Fluey just where Mike had said, huddled in the corner, nervously shaking, and mumbling something. The group noticed immediately he didn't look like himself. He was thin, pale, disheveled, bruised, scratched, and looking scared to death.

"Fluey?" Phyllis asked.

Fluey turned his head toward his friends, and just stared at them. He didn't make one sound. Phyllis immediately ran toward him, ready to hug him, but before she could even reach him, Fluey swiped at her with his fingers, as if they were claws, and hissed like an angry cat. Then he began backing away from her, and the others, making growling noises like an angry cat, glaring at them.

"Fluey, what's the matter?" Coiley asked, coming closer.

Fluey hissed again, took a swipe at Coiley, and started backing away, cat-growling again. Skittles whimpered and dove behind Multi's leg to hide.

"Hey, take it easy, Fluey!" Multi shouted. "It's us!"

Fluey just hissed, and cat-growled. The others just stood back, not knowing what to think. Big D finally stepped forward, and grabbed Fluey's wrist as the dark-haired Impossible made a swipe at him.

"Fluid . . . ." the chief started, but as soon as Big D had grabbed him, Fluey began to get hysterical. He began kicking and scratching at the chief, trying to pull away from him, and screaming incoherently. Big D had no choice but to let go. Once he did, Fluey curled himself into the fetal position, and began shaking again, looking at the others, wide-eyed in fear. Big D stood up, and just looked at Fluey.

"He doesn't seem to recognize us," he said.

"That's pretty much an understatement," Mike said. Phyllis nudged him in the ribs with her elbow for that one.

"What can we do, chief?" Coiley asked.

"I . . . . . I'm not sure," Big D said. "I have absolutely no idea what to do."

Skittles whimpered, and then slowly made her way toward Fluey. Fluey looked at the super pup. Skittles moved closer, until she was right next to her dark-haired friend. Then, she gave him a small nudge with her nose, and gently licked his cheek. Slowly, Fluey reached out his hand, cautiously, and began to pet the little puppy. Big D took Skittles's lead, and slowly approached his grandson. Fluey tensed again, hissed, and was about to back away, until Big D began to slowly stroke his hair.

"Calm down," he said. "Just calm down now. We're not going to hurt you."

Fluey took a couple of deep breaths, letting them out slowly. Big D continued stroking Fluey's hair, knowing this generally calmed him down when he lost control of himself. Fluey then looked at Big D, as if he were studying him.

"Why doesn't he know us?" Coiley asked.

"Look at his arms," Multi said. "Judging by all those marks, my guess is whoever's holding him here has been injecting him with some kind of drug."

"Yeah, I had a friend who was a heroin addict," Mike said. "And he was covered in needle marks. And it began to affect his brain after awhile."

"I hope it's not as bad as that," Phyllis said. "Poor Fluey, what did he do to you?"

"Judging by the fact his hair is matted with blood," Big D said, "he could have been hit in the head . . . . . more than once, the way it looks now."

"Another case of amnesia?" Multi said, remembering a case where Fluey took a blow to the head and a couple of hoods convinced him he was a gangster.

"Possibly," Big D replied, not realizing Fluey was beginning to move a little closer to him. "Or it could be a mix of both the drugs, and however many hits to the head he's taken. I don't really know for sure."

"Looks like he might be coming out of it, though," Mike pointed out. "Look, chief."

Big D did look, and he saw Fluey crawling toward him slowly. Then suddenly, Fluey latched onto the chief, and began to cry hysterically.

"I think we've made a breakthrough," Big D said, wrapping his arms around his grandson's shoulders.

"It's okay, Fluey," Phyllis said, kneeling down next to her brother, and putting her hand against his shoulder. "Everything's going to be all right now."

Fluey then let go of Big D, and turned toward Phyllis. He moved closer to her, and rested his head in her lap, still crying. Phyllis began stroking his hair, gently.

"Shhh," she whispered. "It's all right. Everything's all right now."

"You'll be okay, Fluey," Coiley said as he and Multi came a little closer.

"Yeah, we're gonna get you out of here right now," Multi said.

Fluey looked up at Multi and Coiley, and smiled a little. He grabbed Multi's hand, since he was the closest to him, and squeezed, as a gesture of thanks.

Suddenly, the group heard footsteps from upstairs. Fluey tensed, sat up, and began backing away toward the corner, whining like a puppy, and shaking like a scared bunny rabbit. Skittles immediately went into guard dog mode.

"I think we're about to meet the perp, boss," Mike said.

"I think you're right," Big D said. He reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small gun. The others were a little shocked.

"I didn't know you carried a gun, boss," Multi said.

"Only in extreme emergencies," Big D said. "And I think this qualifies as one. Don't worry, I don't intend to use it, unless I have to. Now, I suggest we all hide for the moment. We want to achieve the element of surprise."

The others agreed, and ducked into the shadows so they wouldn't be seen. Big D was about to do the same, when Fluey suddenly grabbed his wrist, and let out a whine, as if he were telling the chief not to leave him.

"Calm down, Fluid," Big D said. "We don't want this . . . . . this poor excuse for a human being to know we're here. We're going to get you out of here, but we have to take whoever's responsible for this by surprise to do so first. Do you understand?"

Fluey nodded slowly, and loosened his grip. Before he ducked into the shadows, he stroked Fluey's hair, and then tilted his head upwards so he was looking at the chief.

"Don't worry, Fluid," he said. "If all goes well, we'll make sure this monster doesn't have another chance to hurt you, or _any_one else again."


	23. Finally

"What the . . . . ." Jake said, once he saw the basement door was open. "If that little creep got out, I'm gonna skin him alive once I catch him!"

Jake then grabbed his butcher knife, and began storming down the stairs. He groaned when he saw the light was turned on, but he relaxed when he found Fluey huddled in the corner of the basement.

"Well, well, well," he said. "What do we have here? Think about escaping again, but decided not to? Decided to accept your fate like a man, eh?"

Fluey was completely scared senseless. He nervously backed into the corner, as far as he could go, and even then, he still kept trying at it. Jake just laughed, as he lifted the knife, approaching his captive slowly.

"Any last words, Maggot?" he asked. He was about to plunge the knife into Fluey's chest, without even giving the teenager a chance to respond.

"Freeze!" Big D shouted, coming out of the shadows with his gun raised. "You're under arrest!"

"What the . . . . ." Jake asked, as Multi and Coiley also came out into the open. Skittles followed suit, growling as ferociously as she could.

"It's him, chief!" Multi shouted. "The guy we saw at the mall."

"I might've known," Coiley said.

"Hey, hold it a minute!" Jake shouted. "You can't do this to me!"

"We can, and we are," Big D said. "I'm afraid you're coming with us."

"Oh no I'm not!" Jake shouted. He immediately dropped the knife, and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. Immediately, Skittles growled, revved up, and took off like a shot after him.

"Let's get after him!" Coiley shouted.

"Right!" Multi agreed.

"Rally ho!" the two Impossibles shouted, and followed Skittles up the stairs.

"What now, boss?" Mike asked.

"You and Phyllis stay here with Fluid," Big D said. "One of you get in touch with the local authorities, and then wait for further instructions. I'm going after this one as well."

"Gotcha, chief," Mike said, saluting.

Big D caught up with Coiley, Multi, and Skittles outside. Skittles was sniffing around, trying to pick up Jake's scent.

"We lost him, chief," Coiley said.

"He couldn't have gone far, though," Multi said. "The problem is it's so dark out here, we can hardly see anything!"

"Maybe one of us should go in and get one of the flashlights," Coiley suggested.

"I'm not sure that would be such a good idea," Big D said, trying to assess the situation.

Suddenly, Skittles barked, and raced off, turning around the corner of the house at a break neck speed. The next thing Big D and the two Impossibles heard was Skittles crashing into something, and a loud scream. They ran around the corner, and found Skittles, sitting on the stomach of none other than Jake Cooper. She managed to sniff him out, and she had knocked him off his feet.

"Trust us, pal," Multi said. "It'll go a heck of a lot easier on you if you just gave up now."

"Not on your life!" Jake shouted. He shoved Skittles off his stomach, and tried to make a run for it.

"Not so fast, buster!" Coiley shouted, springing his arm forward, and clobbering Jake right in the nose, while Multi duplicated himself forward and giving Jake several hard blows to the stomach. Jake recovered quickly, and continued to make a run for it.

"After him!" Multi shouted. "Rally ho!"

"Rally ho!" Coiley called out, and Skittles and the two Impossibles ran after Jake. Unfortunately, they ended up losing him in the woods.

"Which way did he go?" Coiley asked.

"He's sneaky, I'll give him that," Multi said. "What now, chief?"

"I don't know," Big D said, looking around for any sort of clue that would tell them where Jake was hiding out, or at least the direction he went in.

As the group was looking around, they heard some rustling in the brush nearby. Quickly, Big D pulled his gun out, and held it up, ready to fire. Multi and Coiley prepared to go into attack. Before anything else could happen, a gunshot rang out from the brush, hitting the chief's gun, which knocked it out of his hands. Slowly, Jake came out from the woods, twirling a gun around on his finger, like a wild west shooter.

"Think you can get the best of me?" he asked. "Think again. Nobody's ever gonna catch me!"

"Don't be so sure about that, fella," Multi said. "Rally ho!"

The red-haired Impossible then duplicated himself forward, and surrounded Jake, providing him no way to escape. Jake kept looking around for a way out, and finally, began shooting the Multi's, one at a time.

"Okay," he said, as he shot the last copy. "You gotta be around here somewhere, Mop Top!"

"Time to spring a little surprise on this guy," Coiley shouted. He sprang forward, and gave Jake an extremely hard punch to the gut. Then he gave him a sharp uppercut to the jaw. Jake staggered a bit, feeling a little dazed.

"All right . . . . ." he growled after he composed himself. "No more Mr. Nice Guy! Just wait until I get my hands on you two twerps!"

Jake looked around, and suddenly felt a hard blow to the back of his neck. He fell forward, letting go of his gun in the process, and the weapon went flying.

"I think _that_ should even things up a bit," Big D said. "Now then, are you going to come quietly, or am I going to have to get rough?"

"Get rough?_You_?" Jake asked. Then he began laughing hysterically. "Oh that's rich! That's a scream! Ha, ha, ha, ha! What's an old geezer like you gonna do to me? You gotta be kidding, Grandpa! Ha, ha, ha!"

Big D stood there calmly, waiting for a moment. Then, he hit Jake in the side of the neck with a karate chop, then socked him in the stomach with a Judo kick, and finished with a right cross to the face. Jake crashed to the ground, dazed and confused.

"You were saying?" Big D asked, somewhat smugly. He pulled out his handcuffs, and was about ready to slap them on, when Jake suddenly pulled a switchblade knife out of his pocket, and slashed at the chief. Big D immediately jumped back to avoid the blade.

"You ain't takin' me no place, Pops!" Jake shouted.

Jake lunged with his knife. Big D dodged, but he _did_ wind up taking a slice to his arm. He hissed in pain, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from seeing that this monster got what was coming to him. The trouble was trying to get close to him without getting killed. Whatever move he made, Jake blocked off by using his knife.

"Are you afraid to fight hand to hand?" Big D asked. "Is that why you're hiding behind a weapon?"

"I'll show you who's afraid, Gramps!" Jake shouted. He pulled in his blade, stowed the knife in his pocket, and charged for the chief like a bull. Big D side stepped, and Jake ran crashing into a tree, head first.

_WHAM!_

"What the . . . . ." he started. Then, he was suddenly socked in the face, and landed flat on his back. He looked up, and saw Multi and Coiley standing over him.

"Had enough yet?" Multi asked.

"Why you . . . . " Jake began he pulled out his knife, and slashed at Multi, who managed to duplicate himself away from the psycho just in time. Jake was a bit dumbstruck, and by the time he composed himself, the two Impossibles had made themselves scarce.

"Where'd they go?" he asked. "Once I get my hands on them . . . . ."

"You won't have a chance," Big D replied. "I'll see to that."

"You got guts, old timer," Jake said. "I'll admit that. Most people your age don't have much fight in them. However, you're not gonna have much fight in ya much longer, and neither will those two brats, once I find them!"

Jake then charged again, and this time, he managed to tackle the chief to the ground. This started the typical barroom brawl scenario. Coiley, Multi, and Skittles saw what was going on, and charged. Skittles went in first, sinking her teeth as hard as she could into Jake's posterior. She may have been a little puppy, but she had some _very_ sharp teeth! And there were times when she got hold of something, she absolutely refused to let go. This was one of those times.

"Yeeee_oooouch_!" Jake screamed. "Get off of me, you mangy little . . . . ."

"Don't you dare hurt my dog!" Multi shouted, duplicating himself forward, giving Jake multiple punches to the face.

"Rally ho!" Coiley cried out, springing forward. He gave Jake a left cross, then a right cross, and finally, used his feet to deliver a long range kick to the stomach. Then, he and Multi grabbed Jake by the arms, holding him down. They figured this would subdue him enough to let Big D slap the cuffs on him.

Unfortunately, Jake wasn't about to give up. He backed into a tree as hard as he could, slamming Skittles into it. That dazed her enough to let go. Then he socked both Impossibles as hard as he could, dazing the two of them. He activated his knife once more, and charged at the chief, knocking him to the ground.

"I'll deal with you first, Pops," he said, aiming his switchblade directly for Big D's Adam's apple. "Then I'll take care of those two impossible punks! And their mutt as well!"

Big D grabbed Jake's wrist, and held it away from him, in an attempt to keep his neck from getting slashed. Jake kept pushing forward. Big D didn't know how long he could hold up. However, Skittles came out of her daze just then. She spotted Jake's gun nearby, and picked it up in her mouth. In a burst of speed, she rushed it over to Big D. The chief immediately grabbed the gun, and fired, shooting Jake right in the stomach. Jake screamed in pain, and immediately dropped the knife. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, screaming like a banshee. Big D got up, took off his jacket, and held it against Jake's wound to curb the blood flow. It wasn't his nature to just leave Jake right there to die.

"I assure you, I didn't want to resort to using the gun," he said. "But I saw no alternative."

Jake's only response was a string of obscenities, direct right at the chief. The next thing that was heard were sirens filling the air. Some sounded like police sirens, but there were some ambulance sirens mixed in as well.

"Boys, go check that out," Big D ordered. "That should be the authorities. Lead them here. If there's an ambulance there, bring the paramedics, as well."

"Right away, chief!" Multi shouted, and he, Coiley, and Skittles ran off.

It didn't take long for them to return with two police officers, and the paramedics, wheeling a gurney into the woods. They checked out Jake's vitals, and loaded him onto the gurney, while Big D, Multi, and Coiley explained the situation to the police officers on their way back to the old house. Several police officers were there, as well as a couple of news crews, which were setting up to report the story.

"I didn't want to resort to shooting him, officer," Big D explained to one of the police officers. "But I felt I didn't have a choice in the matter."

"Sounds like self defense to me, officer," Coiley pointed out.

"To me, as well," the officer said.

Before anyone could say another word, an extremely loud shriek was heard nearby. Two more paramedics were wheeling a gurney outside. On it was Fluey, thrashing about, screaming, and struggling against the straps that held him down. Phyllis and Mike were following, trying in vain to get Fluey to calm down. The medics were trying to do the same thing, but they were having a heck of a time with it. The chief also noticed that Mike was sporting a black eye, and he, Phyllis, and the two paramedics had several bruises on their faces and arms.

"What's going on?" Big D asked, as he, Multi, and Coiley ran over.

"The minute the paramedics showed up, Flu . . . . _Franky_ just flipped out," Phyllis explained, catching herself before she called her brother by his code name.

"They had a heck of a time gettin' him strapped down," Mike said. "We had to step in to help, and even then it was a struggle!"

"You the kid's grandfather?" one of the medics asked. "The lady here told us you're his legal guardian."

"Yes," Big D said. "What's the trouble?"

"We gotta get this kid to the hospital so we can get him looked at, but we're afraid he's gonna go break the straps and hurt himself if he keeps thrashing around like this. We tried to sedate him, but the minute he saw the needle, he lost it completely. I seriously don't think he knows we're trying to help him."

"I see."

Big D glanced over at Fluey, who was trying to sit up against the straps that held him to the gurney, screaming his head off, incoherently, and hissing like a feral cat. More than anything at that moment, Big D wanted to know what Jake had done to him to put him in this state.

"What do you think, chief?" Phyllis asked.

"We need to sedate him," Big D said, immediately. "I don't want him breaking out of these straps on route to the hospital, and his screaming may distract the paramedics. We need to knock him out, but the question is how."

"I could always club him with a wrench," Mike said, shrugging.

"Mike!" Phyllis yelled, glaring at the mechanic.

"One more crack like that, Rogers, and I'm going to be the one to do the clubbing, as you put it, with a wrench," Big D warned.

"Sorry," Mike said, sheepishly.

"Try injecting him again," Big D replied.

"All right, I guess," the paramedic said, uncertainly. "Okay, Franky, here we go. We're just going to give you a little shot to calm you down . . . . ."

Fluey saw medic coming at him with the needle. His eyes widened in fear, and he let out a shriek loud enough to break glass! He began thrashing about again. Both paramedics, Mike, Multi, Coiley, Phyllis, and Big D immediately tried to hold him down to keep him from breaking the straps.

"Whatever happened must have involved a needle!" Multi shouted. "I know he's always hated getting a shot, but he's never acted like _this_ before!"

"Clear case of PTSD if I ever saw one," the second paramedic said. "Maybe if we all hold him down, we'll be able to get the sedative in him."

"It's worth a try," Big D said. He kept one hand firmly gripped to Fluey's arm, while he reached up and stroked his grandson's hair with his other hand. Fluey tensed slightly. He stopped thrashing for a minute, and began cat-hissing again.

"Calm down, Fluid," the chief said, while the paramedics were out of earshot, preparing another syringe. "Just calm down. No one is going to hurt you. We're trying to help you."

"Yeah, Fluey," Multi said. "It's okay. This is just something that's going to help you to relax a little. You believe us, don't you?"

Fluey took a couple of deep breaths. The medics returned with the syringe, and Fluey began struggling again. The others held him down, and finally, the medic was able to inject the sedative into his system. Fluey thrashed around a some more, but the sedative was a fast acting one, and in a matter of seconds, he was out like a light.

"There we go," one of the medics said. "That's better. Let's get moving."

The paramedics then wheeled the gurney toward the back of the ambulance. Big D told Multi and Phyllis to go with them, in case Fluey woke up during the ride and started thrashing around again. Phyllis turned on her tracking device so Mike, Coiley, Skittles, and the chief could meet them at the hospital. Once that was settled, the ambulance drove off, while Mike went back to his motorcycle, and Coiley, Skittles, and Big D headed back to the Impossi-Mobile.


	24. The Hospital

Fluey found himself in some kind of room. It was dark, and cold, and there weren't any doors or windows. Suddenly, Fluey heard someone laughing. He stood up, and looked around, but no one was there. The laughter grew louder, and the louder it got, the more nervous Fluey became. Fluey turned around, and saw a shadowy figure, holding a huge knife in his hand. The figure raised the knife, and brought it down quickly, right at Fluey's chest.

_"AAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!"_ Fluey shrieked at the top of his lungs, bolting upright, panic stricken. He was breathing heavily, and looking around the room, wide-eyed in fear. It was only a nightmare, but the realization of it didn't set the dark-haired teen's mind at ease.

Fluey didn't have the slightest idea where he was. He was laying in a bed, wearing a hospital gown, there was a tube stuck in his arm, and his head, arms, and legs were covered in bandages. He realized he was in a hospital room, but where? A few moments later, the door to his room opened, and a doctor walked in. He looked to be in his mid to late forties, with graying dark hair.

"Good morning," he said. "I'm Dr. Hauss."

Fluey just stared at the doctor. Dr. Hauss then looked at several documents on his clipboard. A nurse and a couple of orderlies walked into the room a few moments later. Fluey began to get a little more nervous. Dr. Hauss didn't seem to notice, and he turned toward the nurse and the orderlies.

"We're going to wheel him down to room one," he explained. "I want a complete physical examination on him."

"Yes, doctor," the nurse said. That being said, she took the IV stand, while the orderlies began wheeling the bed out of the room, and down the hallway.

Fluey looked around as he was being transported. Nothing looked familiar to him. Where was he, anyway? And where were Coiley, Multi, and the others? The last thing he remembered was being strapped down and shot with a needle, but his friends were there when that happened. Where were they now? What was going on?

Dr. Hauss and the orderlies wheeled Fluey into an examining room. Fluey watched, as the doctor and the orderlies each put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Okay," Dr. Hauss said. "Let's get him up on the table."

The two orderlies approached, and lifted Fluey off the bed and onto the examining table. Or at least they tried to. The minute they did, Fluey immediately began squirming, kicking, and screaming.

"Calm down, Franklin," Dr. Hauss said. "This is just a routine examination."

The orderlies had to hold Fluey down before Dr. Hauss did anything, but it wasn't easy. Dr. Hauss didn't seem to notice. He just prepared to start the examination. However, just as he was about to get started, Fluey let out a scream, and kicked the doctor in the face.

"Ow!" Dr. Hauss shouted, stumbling backwards a bit. Then he composed himself, and tried to start again. "Franklin, this _must_ be done. Now just calm down so we can . . . . ."

Fluey wasn't about to listen. The orderlies increased their hold on him, which only panicked the dark-haired Impossible even more. He began screaming again, squirming around, doing whatever he could to just get away. Finally, he broke free of the two orderlies, and jumped off the examining table.

"Franklin, don't make this harder on yourself," Dr. Hauss said, in a warning tone, as he grabbed Fluey by the shoulders.

In response, Fluey started kicking his legs, and flailing his arms, all the while screaming. Dr. Hauss couldn't keep hold of him. Once he let go, he tried to grab the teenager once more, but Fluey grabbed the IV stand, and hurled it toward the doctor as hard as he could, which yanked the IV tube out of his arm.

"Franklin . . . . ." Dr. Hauss started, sounding impatient.

Fluey then ducked into a small space behind the examination table, and hugged his knees to his chest. Dr. Hauss heaved an exasperated sigh, and walked over to the space.

"Franklin, come out of there," he said. "This will go a lot easier on you if you just cooperate."

Dr. Hauss then reached toward the dark-haired Impossible, but the minute his hand was close enough, Fluey hissed like a cat, and smacked Dr. Hauss's hand as hard as he could.

"That does it," Dr. Hauss groaned, frustratedly. "You're coming out of there even if I have to drag you!"

Fluey crouched as low as he possibly could, and retreated as far into that small space as possible. Dr. Hauss reached in, but Fluey bit him in the hand as hard as he could. It was obvious he wasn't coming out of there any time soon. Dr. Hauss let out a growl, and stormed out of the examining room, slamming the door behind him. The two orderlies followed, leaving Fluey alone.

Fifteen minutes later, Fluey heard the door open, and he tensed. He heard several footsteps, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to come out from hiding and see who was coming in.

"He's being extremely difficult," he heard Dr. Hauss say.

"You can't expect him to be compliant," a familiar voice replied.

"Especially not after what he's been through," another familiar voice pointed out. "I mean, we told you he was in bad shape when we found him."

"Well, just get him out so we can get the examination done," Dr. Hauss said.

Moments later, Fluey saw two figures approach his hiding place. He leaned out to look, and found Multi and Coiley standing there.

"Hi, Franky," Coiley said, being careful not to use his team mate's code name in front of Dr. Hauss.

"Come on out," Multi said. "It's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Fluey just sat there, and stared at his friends. Then, slowly, he came out from hiding. Big D and Phyllis were in the room as well. Mike was outside, keeping an eye on Skittles, since animals weren't allowed inside the hospital.

"Come on, let's get started," Dr. Hauss said, coming forward. Fluey quickly ducked back behind the table to avoid him. Dr. Hauss groaned.

"Argh!" he growled. "This kid is im_poss_ible!"

"Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired, doctor," Big D said. "I think it would be best to transfer him to St. Mercy's Hospital back in Megatropolis."

"Not in the shape he's in, Mr. Dawson," Dr. Hauss said.

"Maybe we ought to call in Dr. Phelps," Multi suggested. "I mean, he _is_ our regular doctor, and . . . . ."

"It would take too long for him to get here," Dr. Hauss said. "Besides which, _I'm_ the head doctor here, and Franklin is _my_ patient, after all."

"Well, he's certainly not going to come out as long as you're in the room, Dr. Hauss," Coiley said. "Maybe we should . . . . ."

"Who has the P.h.D. here, kid?" Dr. Hauss asked, glaring at Coiley. "You, or me? I know what I'm doing."

"If you know what you're doing, how come you can't get Franky to come out?" Multi asked.

"In all honesty, doctor, I think we should skip the exam for right now," Phyllis said.

"You want to know if anything happened, don't you?" Dr. Hauss asked. "You want to know if the guy did the same thing to him that he did to those bodies that were found, don't you?"

"Of course we do," Big D said. "But now may not be the right time for it."

"Yeah, just look at him," Phyllis said. "The poor thing's scared half to death here!"

"Fine," Dr. Hauss sighed, resignedly. "Whatever. I've got other patients to deal with, anyway. I don't have time to deal with this right now."

And with that, Dr. Hauss left the room. The others just groaned.

"You were right, chief," Multi said. "His bedside manner _does_ leave something to be desired."

"You can come out now, Fluey, he's gone," Coiley said.

Slowly, Fluey crept out of his hiding place, looking nervous. He got up on his feet, and looked around the room a bit. Then, he suddenly fell to his knees, and let out a scream. Tears began cascading down his face. Multi and Coiley pulled their comrade to his feet, and guided him back toward the bed.

"I think we'd better get him back to his room, chief," Multi suggested.

"I think you're right," Big D replied.

Once the group got Fluey back into the bed, they wheeled it back down the hall. Once they were back in Fluey's room, Phyllis tried to reattach his IV, but Fluey just jerked his arm away, and hissed at her.

"I know, Fluey," Phyllis said, trying to remain calm. "Please, I know it's going to hurt a little, but you need this."

Fluey just hissed, and shied away from his sister. Phyllis looked at Big D and shrugged.

"I don't know what to do, chief," she sighed. "He won't let me get near him to put the IV back in."

"Maybe you could reason with him, chief," Coiley suggested. "You _are_ his grandfather, after all."

Big D walked toward Fluey, and gently placed his hand against the back of his grandson's head. Fluey tensed a bit, and stared at the chief. Big D said nothing, and began to slowly stroke Fluey's hair.

"Relax," he said. "Just relax. Calm down."

Big D kept stroking Fluey's hair, trying to keep the teenager's focus on him. While Big D had him distracted, Phyllis tried once more to put the IV tube back, but Fluey once again jerked away.

"I don't think this is going to work," Multi said. "Maybe we ought to get a nurse in here to do this."

"I don't know, Multi," Coiley said. "If we got a nurse in here to poke the IV in his arm, Fluey's likely to lose it again."

"Trust me on this, boys," Big D said, tilting Fluey's face toward his own. "This _will_ work. Phyllis just tried to put it in too soon. Wait until I signal you, Phyllis."

"Right, chief," Phyllis replied, and she stepped back a little.

Multi and Coiley stood there and watched, as the chief continued stroking Fluey's hair, and telling him to calm down. They weren't sure this was going to work. Big D didn't seem to notice this. He kept his gaze fixed on his grandson, and Fluey's gaze was fixed on the chief. Fluey slowly began to calm down a little, taking a few deep breaths. He suddenly felt sleepy, and started to nod off.

"Now, Phyllis," Big D said.

Phyllis nodded, and gently took Fluey's arm, which was beginning to get limp. She slowly inserted the IV into his arm, and secured it. Fluey hadn't noticed. The minute the needle was in his arm, he closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

"Hey, it worked," Coiley said. "I didn't think it would work, but it worked."

"How'd you know it would, chief?" Multi asked.

"Parental instincts, boys," Big D replied. "Believe me, I'm used to these sorts of outbursts. His father tended to get hysterical like that when he was about two or three years old. Now, I suggest we take our leave and let Fluid get some rest."

The others agreed, and left the hospital.

While Fluey slept, another scene was unfolding in his dreams. In this one, Fluey was running through a wooded area, and being chased by Jake Cooper and his butcher knife.

"You can run, Maggot, but you can't hide!" he shouted.

Fluey ran as fast as he could. Jake's laughter surrounded him. The trees began to come to life, and they started grabbing at him. Zombie forms of Jake's previous victims came out from underground, and grabbed his arms, preventing him from going any farther. Jake appeared shortly afterward, looking more crazed than he had ever looked to Fluey before. He grabbed Fluey away from the zombies, and threw him down on the ground. Fluey tried to fight back, but found out he couldn't. The zombies were holding down his arms.

"And _this_ time, Maggot," Jake said, as he started to loosen his belt. "You're _going_ to cooperate!"

Fluey let out a piercing shriek, and woke up almost immediately, drenched with sweat, and practically gasping for breath. The only light in the room was coming from a crack in the door. He could hear the hospital's night staff outside in the hallway. The door suddenly started to open, and a figure in the doorway reached into the room, and turned on the light. It was one of the night nurses.

"I thought I heard a scream coming from in here," she said, walking inside. "Is everything okay?"

Fluey tensed up, and said nothing. The nurse walked inside, and looked at Fluey's chart.

"Hmmmm . . . . ." she murmured as she put it back. "Why don't I get you something to help you relax so you can go back to sleep? I'll be right back."

The nurse left the room, but Fluey was still tense. Moments later, the nurse returned with some pills and a plastic cup of water.

"Here we go," she said, in what Fluey perceived as a condescending tone. "Now, be a good boy, and take your medicine . . . . ."

The nurse came closer to Fluey, and he began to get more nervous. He started backing away from the nurse, as she moved closer. The minute she put her hand on Fluey's shoulder, he let out a shriek, and shoved her away. The nurse was taken aback, but she tried again. This time, Fluey swiped his hand at her, with his fingers curled, like they were claws, and hissed. Every time the nurse got close, Fluey hissed like a cat at her. Finally, the nurse gave up, and went to find a doctor. She returned to the room about ten minutes later, with doctor right behind her.

"I've been trying to give him a sleeping pill, but he won't take it," the nurse explained, while the doctor checked Fluey's chart.

"I see," the doctor said, putting the chart back. "Now then, young man, we can do this in one of two ways. You can either take a sleeping pill orally, or take a sedative intravenously. Your choice. Shall we try orally first?"

The doctor approached, Fluey tensed, and began backing up again. As soon as the doctor got close enough, Fluey screamed, and smacked the doctor's hand, causing him to let go of the cup. It hit the floor, and water splashed everywhere. The doctor tried moving forward again, but Fluey cat-swiped at him, hissing.

"Hauss was right," the doctor said. "He _is_ one of the most difficult patients I've ever seen."

"Should we try injecting the sedative, doctor?" the nurse asked.

"I don't think so. If Hauss and the rest of the staff are right, then this kid's just going to practically have a stroke if he even _sees_ a needle."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"Better get his grandfather over here. From what Hauss said, he's the only one who can handle this kid.


	25. Doctor Debacle

It was around midnight when the phone rang in Big D's hotel room. He, Mike, Phyllis, Skittles, and the other two Impossibles were staying there until either Fluey was discharged, or Dr. Hauss came to his senses and allowed the dark-haired Impossible to be transferred to Megatropolis, whichever came first.

Once the phone rang, Big D woke up, groaned, and picked it up.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Mr. Dawson, this is Dr. Sinclair at the Fillmore McGarfield Memorial Hospital," the person on the other end said. "I'm sorry to disturb you at this time of night. We're calling you to inform you . . . . ."

"What's wrong?" Big D asked, waking up a little more upon hearing this.

"Well . . . . . nothing, per se," Dr. Sinclair went on. "It's just that one of our nurses heard your grandson screaming, and when she tried to give him a sleeping pill, he began . . . . . I don't know, hissing at her, so then I tried to give him the pill, and . . . . ."

"Ah ha. I see."

"I'm sorry, but Dr. Hauss said that . . . ."

"All right, I'll be right over."

Big D hung up the phone, and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and it opened shortly afterward.

"Chief?" Phyllis asked, coming through the door that connected her hotel room to Big D's.

"Don't tell me you're still up," Big D asked.

"I thought I heard you talking to someone," Phyllis said. "Where are you going?"

"To the hospital," Big D said. "I got a call from a doctor there, and they're having trouble getting your brother to go back to sleep."

"Post-traumatic stress," Phyllis said, nodding.

"Undoubtably. Hopefully, the doctor who called me will be more sympathetic than Dr. Hauss."

Ten minutes later, Big D arrived at the Fillmore McGarfield Memorial Hospital, and was met by Dr. Sinclair.

"I don't know all of the details of the case, Mr. Dawson," Dr. Sinclair said, leading the chief down the hall. "I know it's post-traumatic stress disorder, but he just won't talk about it. And he won't let anyone near him, either."

"I don't know much about what happened, either," Big D replied. "And the fact that he won't let anyone near him . . . . truthfully, he just won't let anyone he doesn't know near him. Which is why I suggested to Dr. Hauss that we transfer him back to Megatropolis, and be examined by his own doctor. To be perfectly frank, Dr. Sinclair, I don't like the idea of complete strangers prodding at him while he's in this state of mind."

"I understand that, Mr. Dawson, but the trouble is I can't do anything about it. Not without approval from Dr. Hauss, anyway."

Big D nodded, and Dr. Sinclair opened the door to Fluey's room. Fluey was sitting in bed, with his knees pulled to his chest, shaking a little.

"Franklin," Dr. Sinclair said. "There's someone here to see you."

Fluey looked up, suspiciously. Once he saw Big D, he started to relax a little. Big D walked into the room, pulled up a chair, and sat down.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, as he began slowly stroking Fluey's hair. "What's the matter, nightmares?"

Fluey nodded, and curled himself out of the ball position he was in for the moment. Big D said nothing, and continued stroking his grandson's hair. Dr. Sinclair stood in the doorway, watching. Big D continued stroking Fluey's hair. He stood up for a moment, and then motioned for Dr. Sinclair to come over.

"I think we may as well get some testing done," he said quietly, so Fluey wouldn't hear him. "One of his friends thinks he may have been injected with who knows what, which may partially explain his mental state. I am fully aware of his reaction towards needles, which leads me to believe that sorry excuse for a human being who was holding him used several on him, but I'd like to know what he was injected with."

"So you're saying we should take a blood sample now?" Dr. Sinclair asked.

"Yes," Big D said. "Now's a good time to do so, since I'll have him distracted. Otherwise, you won't have another chance to do it."

Dr. Sinclair left the room, and Big D at back down, continued to stroke Fluey's hair, and talking softly to him, doing his best to calm his grandson down, and get him back to sleep. Moments later, Dr. Sinclair returned with a syringe, but he was careful not to let Fluey see it. Big D made sure Fluey's focus was on him, and not the doctor, just like when Phyllis had put the IV needle in Fluey's arm. Dr. Sinclair injected the syringe, and took some blood, and Fluey didn't even notice. He was already asleep.

"You must be a hypnotist," Dr. Sinclair commented, taping a piece of gauze to the injection sight.

"I wouldn't exactly call it hypnotism," Big D said. "But at least my method keeps him still long enough for this sort of thing."

"Think you can do that for Dr. Hauss to get the physical done?"

"I don't think so. I suggested it to Dr. Hauss, but he refused. He wouldn't let me in the examining room until Franklin hid behind the table and wouldn't come out. I certainly don't blame Franklin for not wanting to have this examination, but considering those bodies we found . . . . ."

Big D stopped in mid-sentence at the mere thought of the autopsy reports received during this whole nightmare. The very thought of Jake Cooper sexually assaulting those boys was bad enough, but the thought of him doing the same to Fluey made him sick to his stomach. But he recovered from that thought, and cleared his throat.

"I don't know what the regulations here are," he said, "but I think I should stay here with him."

"I agree," Dr. Sinclair said. "Usually, we only allow parents of very young children stay in their rooms with them, but this is a special case, I think."

"Better give him that sedative now, doctor. He might need it."

"Right."

Dr. Sinclair added a sedative to Fluey's IV drip, and Big D stood up and stretched for a moment before sitting back down in the chair.

"I can arrange to have a cot brought in if you prefer," Dr. Sinclair said.

"No, that won't be necessary," the chief said. "I'm probably not going to be getting much sleep, anyway."

Dr. Sinclair nodded, and left the room. Big D sighed, and began stroking Fluey's hair. He could only hope that this would all end soon.

About an hour later, Fluey began moaning, and jerking his head from side to side. Shortly thereafter, the moaning turned into screaming. Big D immediately grabbed Fluey by the shoulders, and held him down for the moment.

"Fluid!" he shouted. "Fluid, _wake up_!"

Fluey woke up suddenly, breathing heavily. He looked around the room a little confused. He calmed down a little when he saw the chief, but then, he suddenly lost it, like he did earlier that day in the examining room. He latched onto the chief, and wouldn't let go.

"Won't stop . . . . ." he said, hoarsely. "Can't . . . . he's . . . . he's there . . . . . every time . . . . won't go away! Make it stop, chief . . . . _please_ make it stop!"

"If only I could," Big D sighed.

Twenty minutes of straight sobbing later, Fluey was out like a light again. Big D figured he exhausted himself and passed out. Big D guided him back down into bed, and started stroking his hair, gently.

"If only I could," he sighed again.

Around eight in the morning, the others (save for Mike and Skittles) came into the room. Fluey was asleep, but Big D was still awake.

"Been here all night, chief?" Coiley asked.

"Yes," Big D said, standing up and stretching. "I didn't get any sleep at all. And I think Fluid only got at least three hours worth. He keeps having nightmares, and I'm positive he's reliving the experience."

"Maybe you ought to get the story from the perp," Coiley suggested. "I'm pretty sure the medics brought him here. This is the only hospital around."

"I'd better not," Big D said. "I'm liable to wring his neck the minute I got in there."

"Big D isn't very pleasant to be around when he doesn't get enough sleep," Phyllis said.

"Besides, I don't think it would be a good idea to leave Fluid," Big D continued. "From what the doctors have said, he becomes completely unglued when they come near him."

Suddenly, Fluey began moaning and thrashing about. Then he began screaming. Before Big D could do anything, Fluey suddenly jolted awake, sweating, and taking in huge gulps of breath. His eyes were a bit glazed over, and he looked around the room in confusion. Then he collapsed into the bed, flat on his back, and moaned. Big D took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and began wiping the sweat off Fluey's forehead.

"Calm down, Fluid," he said. "It was just a nightmare."

"No . . . . ." Fluey said, breathlessly. "No . . . . . it . . . . . it keeps . . . . . happening . . . . ."

"The same thing every time?" Coiley asked.

"Want it to stop . . . . . ." Fluey said, practically whining. "Want it to go away . . . . ."

"I know," Big D said, stroking Fluey's hair. "I know."

Fluey broke down about then. The others just stood there, not knowing what to do. They had never seen Fluey like this before. As they were wondering what to do, Dr. Hauss came into the room.

"Well," he said. "Should we try to have a go at the physical examination?"

"No . . . . ." Fluey said, nervously. "No!"

"At least he's started talking," Dr. Hauss said, coming closer to the bed. "Come along, now, Franklin."

Fluey began shaking nervously, and started backing away. When he hit the wall, he started to claw at it, as if he were trying to climb it.

"I've heard of climbing the walls, but you're just being ridiculous, Franklin," Dr. Hauss said. He reached out, and grabbed Fluey by the arm. "Come on now. Don't be such a baby!"

Fluey suddenly froze. He stared at Dr. Hauss, and suddenly, the doctor began to morph into Jake Cooper, holding him in a vice like grip, sneering wickedly at him.

"Don't be such a baby!" Jake shouted. "All I wanna do is play!"

"_AAAAAAGGGHHH!_" Fluey shrieked, and yanked his arm away. Then he curled himself into the fetal position on the bed, and started whimpering.

"No . . . . no, please!" he begged. "No . . . . no, no!"

"Geez, what is the _matter_ with this kid?" Dr. Hauss asked.

"A little something called post-traumatic stress disorder," Multi explained, glaring at Dr. Hauss. "Don't you think that's kind of obvious, doctor?"

"You must've done something that triggered a memory of what happened," Coiley said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dr. Hauss said. He walked over to the bed, and grabbed Fluey's arms. "Come on, now, Franklin. We _have_ to give you an exam in order to . . . . . ."

"Let me go!" Fluey yelled, and he began to fight off, Dr. Hauss. "Please, _please_ let me go! Don't _touch_ me! Let go of me!"

Fluey was squirming so much, Dr. Hauss had no choice but to let go of him. The minute he did, Fluey latched onto Big D and wouldn't let go.

"Don't let him hurt me . . . . ." he begged. "Don't let him hurt me!"

"It's all right, Franky," Phyllis said. "It's okay. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you."

"Wow," Coiley said. "He must've really been through something."

"This is the worst I've ever seen him," Multi commented.

"I give up!" Dr. Hauss shouted. "This kid is being impossible!"

"And I think _you're_ the one being impossible, doctor," Big D said. "He obviously doesn't trust you, and he doesn't trust anyone at this hospital."

"But I'm a doctor!" Dr. Hauss shouted. "There's no need for him not to trust . . . . ."

"He doesn't trust you because you're a complete stranger to him!" Phyllis shouted. "I mean, geez, haven't you _noticed_ he gets like this with _all_ the staff here?"

"Yeah, and it _was_ a complete stranger who kidnapped him, and did who knows what to him," Coiley pointed out.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, if he'd only . . . ." Dr. Hauss went on.

"No!" Fluey yelled. "No, don't let him near me! Don't let him near me!"

"Franklin, listen to me," Big D said. "I know you're having a rough time, but you need to have this examination."

"No . . . . ." Fluey practically whined.

"I have an idea," Multi said. "Franky, you trust me, and Calvin, and Phyllis, and the chief, don't you?"

Fluey looked over at his red-haired friend, and nodded.

"And if we trusted the doctor who was going to give you the physical, you'd do it, wouldn't you?" Multi went on. Fluey thought that one over for a moment, and nodded again.

"That's what I thought," Multi said. "All we have to do is tell you we trust the doctor, and you'd trust him, right?"

Again, Fluey nodded. Dr. Hauss heaved a sigh, and started moving toward the dark-haired Impossible.

"About time," he said.

"Hold it, doctor," Big D said. "You're not going to be handling this."

"But he said if you trusted me, he'd . . . . ." Dr. Hauss protested.

"Mark said if we trusted the _doctor_," Coiley said. "We didn't say if we trusted _you_."

"Therefore, I'm going to contact Franklin's doctor from Megatropolis, and have him come here immediately," Big D went on. "Dr. Phelps should be the one to take care of this."

"But you can't do this!" Dr. Hauss said. "You can't call in another doctor to handle _my_ patient!"

"I can, and I will," Big D went on. "It's obvious we won't get _any_where with you!"

"But why not?"

"Because he just doesn't trust you. And, frankly, Dr. Hauss, _I_ don't trust you, either."

"You can't do this to me! After all, I _am _a doctor, and I know what's best for my patients!"

"Dr. Hauss, I am aware you are the head doctor here, and I am also aware that you _do_ know what you are doing. However, I do not care what you think is best for Franklin. It's quite obvious you don't. I'm calling Dr. Phelps, and if you don't like it, you can take that P.h.D. of yours, in being a pompous windbag, and shove it!"

Dr. Hauss just stood there. Saying nothing, and not even looking at the others, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, Big D lifted his wrist communicator, and began punching the buttons on it.

"Now that we've settled _that_," he said, "let's get Phelps down here to take care of this little matter."


	26. Interrogation

While Big D was contacting Dr. Phelps, Coiley, Multi, and Phyllis left the room. They wanted to see about another patient. None other than Jake Cooper. They got the information they wanted from the front desk, and went up to Jake's room, but before they went inside, Coiley and Multi switched over to their superhero forms, as a precaution. They found him hooked up to various machines, and he was writhing around a bit, in extreme pain.

"Wow, you look awful," Phyllis said, once she saw him.

"You try getting shot in the stomach and see how good _you_ look, toots," Jake growled. "What do you three want, anyway?"

"We want to know what you did to our friend," Multi said.

"Like I'd tell you," Jake said, and then he groaned. "Why doesn't he just tell you himself?"

"Because he won't," Coiley said. "He's practically a shell of his former self!"

"Too bad," Jake said, somewhat sarcastically. Then he groaned again, and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. "Once I get outta here, I'm gonna kill that old man for this."

"Once you get outta here, you're gonna get a one way ticket to jail, fella," Coiley said.

"And even _that_ would be too good for you," Phyllis said, practically glaring daggers at Jake. "After what you put my family and friends through . . . . not to mention what you put who knows how many other families through . . . . . I have a good mind to tear you apart!"

"Yeah right," Jake said. "Like I'm really scared of a _girl_."

Phyllis wanted to wring Jake's neck, but she curbed her temper. She just turned, and left the room. Coiley and Multi watched her leave, and then turned to Jake.

"Okay, let's try this again," Multi said. "Are you going to talk?"

"Not to a couple of stupid kids," Jake said.

"Look, buster, you know it'll go easier on you if you confess," Coiley said. "I mean, we _did_ catch you red handed."

"Purely circumstantial," Jake grumbled. "Besides, I don't have to answer to you twerps. You're just a couple of stupid teenagers!"

"With superpowers," Multi interjected.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jake said, waving the two Impossibles off. "Just get outta here, you twerps, you bug me."

Coiley and Multi left the room, but not without casting a couple of dirty looks in Jake's direction. Jake returned their dirty looks with one of his own, and then groaned in pain.

The trio returned to Fluey's room, and found Fluey asleep, clutching Big D's hand in an iron grip.

"How's he doing, chief?" Coiley asked.

"Same as ever," the chief sighed. "I don't know how we're going to get through this one."

"This is all our fault," Coiley said.

"Yeah, we should've stayed together that day after that creep tried to break into your house, chief," Multi said. "We could have rehearsed for the gig there."

"No one's to blame for this," Big D said. "It's unfortunate that it happened, but it happened, and we can't change it. I just hope, since we've caught the perpetrator, it _won't_ happen again for a long time."

"Wishful thinking, chief," Phyllis sighed.

"Yeah, this sort of thing goes on more often than people think," Coiley said.

"I know," Big D said, and that was all there was to that conversation.

Later in the day, Dr. Sinclair walked into Fluey's room, carrying a report of some kind.

"Mr. Dawson, we just got the results of your grandson's blood test," he said.

"What did you find out?" Big D asked.

"There's a rather large amount of morphine in his system," Dr. Sinclair said, looking at his report.

"Isn't that a type of anesthesia or something?" Coiley asked.

"It's used to relieve severe pain," Dr. Sinclair said. "And it can be highly addictive."

"Most anything containing opium is," Big D said.

"There was another substance mixed in with the morphine that we couldn't identify," Dr. Sinclair continued. "Nobody here knows what it is."

"I think I know one person who does," Multi said.

"Should we go interrogate the perp again, chief?" Phyllis asked.

"Good idea," Big D said. "I'll go with you this time."

Big D stood up, and was about to leave the room, when he suddenly felt himself being jerked back slightly. He looked over, and saw Fluey was awake, and he still had an iron grip on his hand.

"Don't leave," he said. "Please don't leave me alone!"

"You won't be alone," Coiley said. "Dr. Sinclair'll stay here, won't you doctor?"

"Well, considering the last time . . . ." Dr. Sinclair started.

"No!" Fluey shouted, and he reached over with his other hand, and latched onto the chief's sleeve.

"Well, it looks like I'm not going anywhere," Big D sighed.

"How about _I_ stay?" Phyllis suggested. "You might be able to get more out of this guy than me and the boys, anyway, chief."

"Yeah, he wouldn't say a word to us," Coiley said. "Just because we're teenagers."

"Very well," Big D said, managing to wrench his sleeve out of Fluey's grip. Then he turned to Coiley and Multi. "I trust you two will be able to hold me back, just in case I have the sudden urge to do something I'll only regret in the morning."

"Such as cleaning this guy's clock and then some?" Phyllis asked, knowingly.

Big D didn't answer, and he and the other two Impossibles left the room. Fluey grabbed onto his sister's hand, and wouldn't let go of it. Phyllis used her other hand to stroke Fluey's hair. She hoped the entire ordeal would be over soon, and she knew the others felt the same way.

Meanwhile, a nurse led Coiley, Multi, and the chief to Jake Cooper's room. Jake was less than thrilled to see them. As a matter of fact, Multi and Coiley thought he was looking worse than he did earlier.

"You two back again?" Jake grumbled. "Whattaya want, anyway?"

"We want answers," Coiley said.

"I see you brought ol' pops along this time," Jake said. "I gotta tell ya, Pops, you may be an old geezer, but you're sure fast on the draw."

"Never mind," Big D said. "We're here for answers. Believe me, sir, it will go a _lot_ easier on you if you'll cooperate."

"Yeah, well, I ain't saying a word!" Jake shouted.

"We caught you red handed," Multi pointed out.

"I told you, it's circumstantial," Jake said. "I'm not saying anything until I've had a chance to . . . . ."

Jake suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, and began groaning. He clutched his stomach, and howled in pain.

"Ooohhh man . . . . " he moaned. "Hey . . . . . hey listen, go get me one of the docs, wouldja? I need something to kill the pain here!"

"How 'bout some morphine?" Coiley suggested, somewhat sarcastically.

"Whatever," Jake groaned. "Just give me something to kill the pain!"

"I don't know if we should give him morphine, boys," Big D said. "Considering what happened when he drugged Franklin with it."

"Hey, I had to knock the kid out," Jake said. "He was too hard to handle if I didn't!"

"Then you admit it?" Big D asked.

"Okay . . . . . okay!" Jake shouted, continuing to writhe in pain. "I admit it! Just get the doctor in here with some pain killers or something!"

"Agent Coil, go find one of the doctors," Big D said. Then he turned to Jake. "While he's doing that, we have a few more questions to ask."

"Man . . . . ." Jake groaned. "I'm screwed . . . . ."

It took about an hour and a half, but Big D and the two Impossibles got what they wanted. After their interrogation, the three of them returned to Fluey's room. Fluey was sleeping, and Phyllis was sitting next to the bed, stroking his hair and singing under her breath.

"How's it going?" Coiley asked.

"Slowly but surely," Phyllis said. "He's starting to snap out of it a little, at least. Any luck getting the creep to spill?"

"Yeah, he sung like a canary," Coiley said. "If you ask me, I think he only talked because he thought we wouldn't let a doctor come in and give him some pain killers or something if he didn't."

"So did he tell you what that unknown substance was in the drug test?" Phyllis asked.

"He did," Big D said. "Apparently, he had a day job, working for some sort of medical facility, where he volunteered to test the effects of various different forms of narcotics. The doctors couldn't identify it because, technically speaking, it hasn't been named yet."

"So in other words," Phyllis said, "Fluey was just this guy's guinea pig?"

"Far from it," Big D said. "He also admitted to murdering the other boys that were found, as well as a couple of boys from a few years ago, before the SSHQ took on this case."

"Mike was right about one thing," Coiley said. "This character _is_ one sick little puppy!"

"How long is it going to take Dr. Phelps to get up here, chief?" Multi asked, just to change the subject.

"He said he'd come as quickly as he could," Big D replied. "Considering it's a three day drive between here and Megatropolis, and considering Phelps's chosen mode of transportation, we could be in for a long wait."

The group remained in Fluey's room until visiting hours were over. Thankfully, Dr. Sinclair had kept a sedative in Fluey's IV, though he woke up a couple of times due to nightmares, but it wasn't as extreme as it had been.

"You going to stay here overnight again, chief?" Multi asked, as he, Coiley, and Phyllis were getting ready to leave.

"Most likely," Big D said. "Considering his reaction earlier, I don't know if . . . . ."

Before the chief could finish his sentence, a high pitched whine was heard, and immediately, several doctors and nurses on the floor began racing down the hallway. The whine woke Fluey up, and he started to sit up, to see what was going on.

"What's up?" he asked, groggily.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Big D said. "The rest of you stay here."

Big D walked out of the room, calmly, to figure out what was going on. The others just looked at each other, and waited. Some time later, the chief returned to the room, looking a bit stone-faced.

"What's up, Big D?" Coiley asked.

"Yeah, what's going on out there?" Multi asked.

"Jacob Cooper," Big D said.

"The guy that started this whole mess?" Phyllis asked. "What about him?"

"He's dead," Big D answered


	27. Relapse

The Impossibles and Phyllis stared at Big D as if he were crazy. Big D just pulled up a chair, and sat down, all in silence.

"For . . . . . for real?" Fluey asked.

"Yes, for real," Big D replied. "That's what all that commotion was. He apparently went into cardiac arrest."

"Sheesh . . . . ." Fluey said again.

"There was also quite a bit of internal bleeding," Big D went on. "Most likely caused by that shot I delivered to him. I had stated I didn't _want_ to resort to shooting him, but if I hadn't, he might have very well slit my throat."

"I don't blame you for shooting him, chief," Multi said. "I just hope you won't be charged with murder for it."

"I hope not, either," Big D said. "But there's nothing that can be done about it now. In any case, I suggest the three of you take your leave."

"All right, Big D," Coiley said. "Night, Fluey. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Night," Fluey said, waving at his friends.

"I'm glad to see you're starting to come back to your old self," Big D commented. "Even if it's only one or two word responses. It's a start, at least."

"Yeah," Fluey said. Then he yawned, and stretched. "Night, chief."

"Good night," Big D replied. He made himself as comfortable as possible, and prepared himself for another long night.

And he was right about that. Fluey's dreams were haunted with Jake Cooper. In one particular nightmare, Fluey was running down a long hallway, with Jake Cooper following him, revving up a chainsaw.

"You can run, but you can't hide!" he shouted, laughing like a lunatic.

Fluey kept on running. It was all he could do. Suddenly, lightning started to flash around him, as thunder roared, almost deafening. This only made Jake seem all the more creepy. Suddenly, Fluey ran straight into a dead end. Thunder crashed, just as Jake approached.

"Heh, heh, heh," he laughed, sinisterly. "Gotcha now."

Jake held up the whirring chainsaw, and was about to bring it down right on Fluey, when thunder crashed again, and Fluey suddenly bolted upright in his bed, with a scream. He began breathing heavily, and looked around the room, a little confused. He felt a hand come down on his shoulder, let out another scream, and practically jumped ten feet.

"Calm down, Fluid," a familiar voice said. "It's only me."

Fluey turned around, and saw that it was Big D. But that didn't comfort him very much.

The rest of the night turned out like all the others since Fluey had been admitted to the hospital. He woke up several times during the night due to intense nightmares. Big D did his best to calm him down, but nothing was working. By morning, Multi, Coiley, and Phyllis came to visit, as usual. When they arrived, Fluey was sleeping, and the chief was pacing the room. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"What's the matter, chief?" Coiley asked.

"A lot, I'm afraid," Big D said. "For the entire night, Fluid was yelling and shrieking like a banshee over nightmares, and he's started to relapse into the state he was in when we found him in that Cooper person's basement. I've been doing some serious thinking since last night. I'm not sure whether or not Fluid should be an agent anymore."

"What?" Multi asked. "Chief, you can't mean that!"

"You just can't split us up!" Coiley shouted. "We're a team!"

"I know," Big D said. "But after what's happened, and the mental state he's in right now . . . . . and who knows how long it will take for him to snap out of it . . . . . and even then, you don't fully snap out of it, as far as PTSD is concerned . . . ."

Big D trailed off, and continued to pace the room. The others just stood there, watching him. Nobody could think of anything to say. Everyone was snapped out of their thoughts shortly, though, when they heard Fluey start to moan, and thrash about. He suddenly jolted to attention, and looked around the room, breathing heavily. Then he collapsed down into the bed, and moaned.

"Another nightmare?" Phyllis asked, walking over. Fluey just nodded.

"Take it easy, Fluey," Coiley said. "It's all over."

"No," Fluey said, in between breaths. "It's not. It'll never be over! Every time I close my eyes . . . . . he's there, ready to . . . . . to . . . . ."

Fluey couldn't even finish his sentence. He curled himself into the fetal position, and began shaking. He let out what sounded like a mix between a moan and a whine, and gripped the blanket so hard, his knuckles were turning white.

"Calm down, Fluey," Multi said. "Everything's all right now. That creep can't hurt you anymore."

Fluey said nothing. He just lay there, shaking, and tightly gripping the blanket. Multi looked at him closely, and saw that his dark-haired friend's eyes were starting to look a little glassy.

"Fluey?" he asked.

"Mmmmm . . . . ." Fluey mumbled, then he pulled the blanket closer to him, gripping it tighter, and curled himself into an even tighter ball. The others just stared at him, not knowing what in the world to say.

"Mommy . . . . ." Fluey mumbled. "Mommy can make them go away . . . . . only Mommy . . . . ."

"Mommy?" Multi asked, giving Big D a weird look.

"What do you think he's talking about, chief?" Coiley asked.

"I don't know," Big D said.

"I do," Phyllis said. "He wants his mother."

"Mommy stops it . . . . ." Fluey muttered, and he started rocking himself back and forth. "Mommy will make them go away . . . . . ."

"And that's easier said than done," Coiley said. "His mother's been dead for thirteen years."

"I'm sure this isn't anything we can't handle," Big D said. "After all, he's had intense nightmares before, and . . . ."

"And they were nothing compared to this situation," Phyllis said. "We only know a fraction of what that Jake Cooper creep did to him, or how much of it was true or not. We don't know if he was sexually abused or not, and we won't know until Dr. Phelps gets here, and it's obvious Fluey's not ready to talk about it. I don't think we can handle this, chief. Of all the nightmare situations we've gone through with Fluey, he never once wanted his mother before."

"You have a point there, Phyllis," Big D sighed. Then he turned to Multi and Coiley. "Boys, I'm afraid I'm going to _have_ to split you up. There is absolutely no way Fluid can go on with his crime fighting duties for quite some time."

"We understand, chief," Coiley said. "We could always get FG to fill in for him until he's well enough to resume duty."

"At this point, it could be a very long while before that happens," Big D said. "_If_ it ever happens at all."

The others just stood there, and stared at the chief. They didn't know what else to do. Big D talked the doctors into continuing to add a sedative into Fluey's IV drip, but it did little to help the situation. About an hour or so after falling asleep, Fluey would suddenly start thrashing about again, screaming his head off. Only this time, he kept calling out for his mother, as if he were three years old. The only thing the others could do was stand by, and try to calm him down. Coiley, Multi, and Phyllis decided to stay at the hospital that night, and keep an eye on Fluey. They insisted Big D go back to the hotel in order to get some sleep.

The next day, Dr. Phelps arrived at the hospital. He ended up having to take a train to the nearest city, as there wasn't an agency jet available, and then drive the rest of the way.

"None of the agency jets were available," Dr. Phelps explained, as he and the chief walked down the hallway to Fluey's room.

"Well, it can't be helped now," Big D said. "We've had a relapse in the past couple of days. It really looked like he was beginning to improve, and then suddenly, he just started crying out for his mother, and now . . . . . back to square one all over again. The boy just isn't himself anymore."

"Do you have any idea what happened to him?"

"Some, but we don't know how much of it is true. We got a confession from the criminal, but he passed away shortly after we interrogated him. But he _did_ confess about the kidnapping of not only Fluid, but several other boys, and he also confessed to the murders we had uncovered during our search for Fluid."

Dr. Phelps nodded, and he and Big D walked into Fluey's room. They found Fluey sleeping, and Multi and Coiley standing by. Both of them were exhausted.

"Boy, you two look terrible," Dr. Phelps said, putting his bag on a nightstand.

"We were awake all night," Coiley said, stifling a yawn.

"We were trying to help Fluey calm down when he woke up from a nightmare," Multi said. "It didn't go over so well. He kept screaming for his mom all night long, and every time he does, he refers to her as 'Mommy.' We don't know what to make of it, Doc!"

"Well, I'm not a psychologist or a psychiatrist," Dr. Phelps said. "Sounds like regression, but I'm not entirely too sure what to . . . . ."

Dr. Phelps was cut off by a blood curdling shriek. Everyone in the room turned toward Fluey, who was thrashing about, and flailing his arms. Both Multi and Coiley grabbed him, and tried to hold him still, but this caused Fluey to panic, and he began thrashing even harder, all the while screaming. Big D and Dr. Phelps got into the act, by holding down Fluey's legs.

"We'd better get him to wake up before he hurts himself," Dr. Phelps said.

"Not to mention us!" Coiley shouted.

"Fluey!" Multi shouted, right into Fluey's ear. "Fluey, _wake up_!"

That seemed to do the trick. Fluey woke up, and stopped thrashing, but he was looking disoriented, a lot like he did when he first woke up in the hospital. Big D, Dr. Phelps, and the other two Impossibles let go of him, but the minute they did, Fluey practically leapt out of bed, and made a run for the door. He was jerked to a halt, however, by his IV tube. Dr. Phelps quickly used that as a chance to close the door.

"Fluey, take it easy . . . . ." Dr. Phelps said.

"Yeah," Multi said. "Remember, you said if _we_ trusted the doctor to give you a physical, you'd do it?"

Fluey didn't respond. He just shoved Multi aside, and ran for the opposite side of the room, yanking the tube from his arm. Once it was out, Fluey let out a howl of pain, grabbed his arm, and fell to the floor on his knees.

"I see what you mean, chief," Dr. Phelps said.

"Come on, Fluid," Big D said, as he approached his grandson. "We only want you to have this physical examination so we know what that monster did to you."

"Yeah, we don't want to take chances," Coiley said. "Come on, Fluey, you said you trusted us, and if we trusted the doctor that was going to administer it, you'd do it, remember?"

"No . . . ." Fluey said, nervously. "I don't want to . . . . . I don't want to do it!"

"Fluey, please," Multi said. "It's for your own good!"

Fluey started to back into the corner again. Then he curled himself into a ball, and burst into tears. Big D sighed, and looked at the others.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," he said.

"Here's what I suggest," Dr. Phelps said. "We wait until he's ready. Keep trying to talk him into it, but _don't_ try to force him into it."

"Yeah, that might make it worse," Multi said.

The others agreed to that, and backed off for the moment. After about five minutes, Fluey finally got up, and staggered toward the bed, groggy, glassy-eyed, and on the verge of hyperventilating. Once he climbed back into bed, he practically collapsed. Dr. Phelps walked over, and re-attached Fluey's IV. Fluey was so out of it, he didn't make any protest.

"He probably just exhausted himself," Dr. Phelps said. "He'll be okay after awhile, in that regard at least."

Dr. Phelps then pulled a digital thermometer out of his bag. He stuck the end of it into Fluey's ear, pushed the bottom on the top of it, and waited a moment or so. Then he pulled it out to read it.

"Ninety-nine point zero," he said. "Nothing to worry about. His temperature probably elevated a bit when he had that anxiety attack. I'll come back in and check again in twenty minutes, after he's had a chance to calm down. I'm also going to give him a sleeping pill."

"No!" Fluey shouted, suddenly.

"Why not?" Coiley asked. "You need your sleep, Fluey."

"I don't _want_ to sleep!" Fluey shouted. "Every time I try . . . . . _he's_ there . . . . waiting to kill me . . . . ."

"He's gone now, Fluey," Coiley said. "He can't kill you. He can't even hurt you. Just keep telling yourself that."

"He won't go away," Fluey said, and he began shaking a bit. "Mom could make him go away . . . . . my mom always stopped my nightmares . . . . ."

"I have an idea," Dr. Phelps said. "Maybe if you keep thinking about your mother before you go to sleep, you'll see _her_ in your dreams instead of Jake Cooper. Don't think of him at all. Keep your mind focused on your mother."

Fluey merely nodded. He was too tired to think straight at this time, but he _was_ able to think about his adopted mother, Janice McAlister. Dr. Phelps managed to give Fluey the sleeping pill, and now all they had to do was wait


	28. Mommy Dearest

Fluey woke up laying on the floor of an empty room. There were no doors, no windows, no nothing. He got up, and tried to get his bearings, wondering where he was, and how to get out of there. As he was thinking it over, he was abruptly brought out of his thoughts when a huge syringe suddenly flew down from out of nowhere, and hit the ground, nearly missing him by half an inch. Fluey stood there, and stared at it for a moment. Then he saw a shadow of some kind falling over him, and he dared to look up. He ducked out of the way in the nick of time, as another syringe came crashing down at him.

"What the heck?" he asked himself, just staring at these syringes.

Fluey didn't have too much time to wonder what was going on. Almost immediately, several syringes fell from the sky, seemingly, one right after the other. Fluey barely had time to dodge them. Everywhere he turned, his path was cut off by a huge syringe flying down toward him. Finally, he found himself surrounded by them, with no way out. He heard a sinister sounding laugh, and noticed the syringes began to change shape. They were morphing into what looked like iron bars. Fluey suddenly found himself inside a cage with no door on it. The laugh suddenly grew louder, and a shadowy figure approached. Fluey tensed up, as the figure came closer. It turned out to be Jake Cooper, carrying a large butcher knife, dripping with blood, and he had a creepy smile on his face.

"Nowhere to run, kiddo," he said. "I've gotcha now."

Fluey turned away, and covered his eyes with his hands. That was about the only thing he could _think_ about doing at the moment. Jake laughed sinisterly, and raised the knife. But before he could do anything with it, something hard slammed down on his head.

_CLANG!_

That got Fluey's attention. If he knew his cartoon sound effects, then that was the sound of somebody's head being smacked with a frying pan. He dared to look, and saw Jake staggering around, looking dazed. Standing behind him was a brunette woman holding a frying pan, and looking furious.

"Don't you even _think_ about it, you monster!" she shouted, whacking Jake a second, and third time with her frying pan.

Fluey just sat there, slightly bug-eyed and slack-jawed. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The woman was his adopted mother, Janice McAlister, and she kept right on bopping Jake in the head with her frying pan as hard as she possibly could.

"Hey!" Jake shouted. "Hey, watch it, will ya, lady? I mean, _sheesh_!"

"If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you!" Janice yelled, continuing to club Jake. "And even still, I'm not _about_ to let you get away with what you've done to not only _my_ boy, but to all the other boys you tortured as well! I think it's time to put you where you rightfully belong!"

And with that, Janice threw her frying pan aside, and pulled a lever on a nearby wall. A trap door opened directly under Jake's feet, and he suddenly plummeted down, screaming all the way. The screaming began to fade out as he fell, and once it stopped completely, huge flames suddenly burst out of the trap door, and then closed. When the trap door closed, the cage disappeared. Fluey just sat there, and stared at his mother, like he couldn't believe it.

"Mom . . . ." he said. "Is . . . . is it really . . . ."

"It really is," Janice said.

Fluey stood up, and then raced toward his mother, practically flying right into her arms. He broke down then and there, crying like he was three years old.

"Mommy . . . ." he moaned. It was the only thing he could think of saying.

"It's okay, Franky," Janice said, stroking Fluey's hair. "It's okay. Mommy's here. Everything's going to be all right now. That monster is gone now. He'll never hurt you, or anyone else, ever again."

As the two of them stood there, the background faded, and turned into the hospital room. Janice pulled out of Fluey's hug for a moment, and began guiding him toward the bed.

"Poor baby," she said. "You haven't been sleeping, have you? All because of that monster . . . ."

Janice managed to sit Fluey on the edge of the bed, then she took hold of his legs, and lifted them up onto the bed. Then she pushed Fluey down into a laying position.

"There we go," she said, pulling the blanket up to Fluey's neck, and she began stroking his hair. "Now, I want you to be a good boy, and go to sleep."

"But . . . . but I _can't_!" Fluey shouted, as he started to sit up. "I don't want to! Every time I do . . . . _he_ shows up. He's always there, and . . . . ."

"Not anymore," Janice said, pushing Fluey back down. "He's gone forever now. I'll make sure he won't come back again. I _promise_, he's never coming back again. Now, you need your sleep."

"Will you stay here with me? To make sure?"

"Of course I will. And I'll stay with you tomorrow morning, when the doctor gives you that examination. I really want you to be examined, sweetheart. That creature could have done a lot of things to you when you weren't aware of it. You won't see me during the examination, but I'll be there."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Fluey smiled, and closed his eyes. Janice began singing a lullaby under her breath, and continued to stroke Fluey's hair, like she used to do when he was a toddler. Fluey then closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

By morning, Multi, Coiley, Phyllis, and Dr. Phelps arrived at the hospital. They went into Fluey's room. Big D was sitting in his usual spot, and turned toward the door when he heard Phyllis, Dr. Phelps, and the boys come in.

"How's it going?" Phyllis asked.

"Better, to say the least," Big D said, standing up. "He actually slept the entire night through. It's the first time in days."

"Okay, good," Dr. Phelps said. "We're making a little progress, anyway. We'll see how things go when he wakes up."

The others agreed. All they had to do now was wait until Fluey woke up. That didn't take too long. Shortly after Dr. Phelps, Phyllis, and the other two Impossibles arrived, Fluey began to wake up. He sat up, yawned, and stretched, then looked around the room for a moment, a little confused at first, then he laid back down and sighed.

"Well, good morning, starshine," Phyllis said, somewhat jokingly.

"Hi," Fluey said.

"Did you sleep well?" Dr. Phelps asked.

"Yeah," Fluey said. "Mom was here. She kept the monster away. She also said she wants me to get examined."

"I see," Dr. Phelps said. "Well then, does that mean you're ready for the examination? I feel I should tell you, we're not only going to do a complete physical, but we're also going to test for any STD's. You understand that we don't want to take any chances, considering this character's MO."

"I know," Fluey said, a little nervously.

"If you're not ready, we don't have to do this now," Dr. Phelps continued. "I'd like to get it done as soon as possible, but . . . . ."

"No," Fluey said. "I'm ready. Mom said she wants me to do this, and I don't want to disappoint her. She's gonna be there, anyway. She said we won't see her, but she'll be there. She promised, and she never breaks her promises."

"Okay, then," Dr. Phelps said. "Let me get in touch with some of the nurses here, and we'll get started."

Dr. Phelps left the room. Fluey took a few deep breaths. He was extremely nervous about these tests. He was afraid of what they would find. He suddenly felt someone grip his hand, but when he turned to look, he didn't see anyone, not at first. A moment later, his mother appeared, though she was transparent. She smiled, and gave Fluey's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Everything's going to be all right," she said, but only Fluey could hear her. "I'll be right there with you throughout the whole thing. I promise."

Fluey nodded slightly, and gripped his mother's hand. Shortly afterward, Dr. Phelps and two of the Fillmore McGarfield nurses came in.

"Okay, Franky," Dr. Phelps said, using Fluey's real name. "Ready to roll?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," Fluey said.

"Well, then, let's go," Dr. Phelps said. Then he turned to the others. "We'll be back."

And with that, Dr. Phelps and the nurses wheeled Fluey out of the room, and into the hall, on their way to one of the examining rooms. Fluey turned back to the others, and crossed his fingers. Once they left, the others practically dropped to the floor, completely exhausted.

"I really hope this is almost over," Coiley sighed.

"_You_ really hope this is almost over!" Phyllis shouted. "I've been a basket case ever since this whole mess got _star_ted!"

"I think we'll _all_ be glad once this is over," Multi said. "I seriously don't know how you managed to stay calm throughout the whole thing, chief."

"Truthfully, I wasn't so calm at times," Big D admitted. "My nerves were completely shot before we managed to find Fluid. I didn't know how much longer I could stand it! Believe me, boys, what had happened, or what _could_ have happened, is one of a parent's worst nightmares. Believe me, boys, there is _nothing_ worse for a parent than to outlive their child."

Coiley and Multi couldn't argue with that one. Big D definitely knew _that _feeling all too well.

"There are at least some things we've ruled out," Big D said, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in. "When we took the blood sample and found the morphine in his system, he also ruled out the possibility of syphilis, hepatitis, and HIV, thank goodness."

"Yeah, but what about any others?" Phyllis asked.

"Phelps will determine that," Big D said, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "He'll also be able to determine if Fluid was sexually assaulted or not."

"Do you know how long it'll take before we get the results?" Coiley asked.

"Anywhere from a few days to a few weeks," Big D sighed.

"No matter how you slice it, it still mounts up to another wait," Multi said.

"_Ugh_!" Phyllis shouted, stamping her foot. "I'm getting _tired_ of all this waiting!"

"Welcome to the club," Multi said.

"Well, what else can we do?" Coiley asked, shrugging.

Multi, Phyllis, and the chief knew Coiley had a point. Even though they didn't like it, all they could do now was wait, like they had been doing


	29. Finally It Ends

After about a half hour or so, Dr. Phelps and the two nurses returned, wheeling Fluey back to his room. Fluey seemed pretty out of it, though, like he was ready to fall asleep.

"How did it go, Doc?" Multi asked.

"Very well," Dr. Phelps replied. "Fluey _was_ a little nervous about the examination of what I like to call 'the nether region,' which I don't blame him, but there was no hysteria."

"So what's the verdict?" Phyllis asked.

"A lot of bumps, bruises and lacerations, but those have already been taken care of before I was called in. Quite a blow to the back of his head, but thankfully, no permanent damage from that. No skull fracture, either, thank goodness. Truthfully, there weren't any signs of sexual abuse, either. There were no injuries in that area, no swelling, no bleeding . . . . . . I'd say, with the exception of the bumps and bruises, and a slight morphine overdose, he's in pretty good physical condition. But I didn't want to take chances, so I gave him all the STD tests I could."

"How are you feeling now, Fluey?" Coiley asked.

"A little sore," Fluey replied, stifling a yawn. "And a _lot_ sleepy."

"I gave him some antibiotics, just in case," Dr. Phelps explained. "I'd like to keep him on those until we get the test results back. One of the side effects is drowsiness."

"At this point, that's not a bad idea," Big D said. "Considering he hasn't gotten very much sleep lately."

"Neither have you," Dr. Phelps said. "Seriously, chief, you look like you haven't slept in weeks!"

"I don't think I have," Big D admitted.

"I don't think _any_ of us have!" Coiley shouted. "How long do you think it'll be before we can get back to Megatropolis, anyway?"

"Probably some time after we get the test results back," Dr. Phelps said, with a shrug. "I agree with you guys that this Dr. Hauss you told me about is a pompous windbag, but I _do_ agree on one of his points. I'd rather not transfer Fluey back to HQ at this point. I want to get the test results back first, and then work from there."

The others had to agree with that one. They decided to head back to the hotel so they could get some sleep, though Big D pulled up a chair, and prepared to spend yet another all nighter at the hospital.

"Chief," Fluey said, drowsily. "My mom wanted me to tell you something."

"What's that?" Big D asked.

"She said that she'd stay here and take care of me. She wants you to go back to the hotel and get some sleep."

"I see. And what about those nightmares you've been having?"

"Mom's gonna take care of them. She said to tell you not to worry."

"Very well, then."

Big D then stood up, turned off the light, and left the room. He really didn't believe Fluey's mother had spoken to him, but he was going to humor him in this regard. Otherwise, they would just get into an argument. Besides which, Big D was exhausted.

Three days later, the group returned to the hospital. Dr. Phelps went to the front desk to see if the test results were in yet. The others were practically on pins and needles waiting. Even though Fluey was extremely nervous, he seemed pretty relaxed.

"You're taking the waiting pretty well," Phyllis said.

"Yeah, well," Fluey replied, shrugging. "My mom's here. You guys can't see her, though. But she's in here. She's been here for a couple of days."

There was a knock on the door just then. Big D figured it was Dr. Phelps, so he opened it. Instead, it was Mike, and he was carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, gang," he said.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" Coiley asked.

"I was goin' stir crazy waitin' over at the hotel for somebody to call me with news, so I figured I'd stop by," Mike said, with a shrug. "How're you holdin' up, kid?"

"Okay," Fluey said. "I wish they'd get the tests back, though."

"Wait a minute," Multi said. "Mike, if you're here, then who's keeping an eye on Skittles, so she doesn't tear the hotel room apart?"

"Well . . . . ." Mike started. Before he could continue, there was a small yip, coming from Mike's duffel bag. Big D immediately took the bag, opened it, and reached inside.

"Oh no," he groaned. He stood up, holding Skittles. "Rogers, I don't believe you."

"Well . . . . ." Mike shrugged.

Skittles barked, jumped to the floor, and then jumped up to Fluey's bed. She wasn't going at her super speed, because she knew Fluey had been through a lot already.

"Hiya, Skits," Fluey said, scratching the super puppy behind her ears, as she began licking his face.

"She wanted to see Fluey, chief," Mike said. "You can't really blame her, I mean, the two of us have been sittin' cooped up in that hotel for about a week now! With the exception of takin' her for a walk twice a day, but still . . . . ."

"I get it, I get it," Big D said with a sigh. "However, if you get yourself caught by the hospital staff, you're on your own."

Mike said nothing, and walked over to the door to stand watch. The others just stood around, letting Skittles catch up on a lot of visiting hours, and administering her Cuddle Therapy. Fluey had to lift her up a couple of times while she was licking his face, in order to get away from her puppy breath.

"Easy, Skittles, easy!" he shouted. "I missed you, too, but your breath is unbearable!"

"Her whinin' was also unbearable," Mike commented. "As much as I'm crazy about your dog, Multi, she was drivin' me crazy. I kept tellin' her they wouldn't allow dogs, but . . . . uh oh, someone's comin'."

Immediately, Multi took Skittles, and Coiley grabbed Mike's duffel bag. They put Skittles inside, and zipped it up, but only part way, so the super pup could breathe. A few moments later, Dr. Phelps walked into the room.

"Hi gang," he said.

"Oh it's just you," Mike said.

"Gee, thanks a lot, Mike," Dr. Phelps said, glaring at the mechanic.

"He didn't mean it like that, doc," Multi replied. "He snuck Skittles in, and he thought you were one of the hospital's regular staff."

"I see," Dr. Phelps replied. "Well, anyway, I've got Fluey's test results back."

"Good," Coiley said. "I was about ready to climb the walls waiting for it."

"What's the damage, Phelps?" Big D asked.

"The doctors did a lot of testing and re-testing just to make sure," Dr. Phelps said. "And we got the same results every time. All the STD tests came back negative, and there are absolutely no internal injuries. Fluey must have really gotten that character out of the mood."

"Yeah, normally they go for it in a heartbeat," Multi said.

"At least all the testing is over with," Phyllis replied. "I'm so relieved."

"Welcome to the club," Coiley said.

"I've got more news," Dr. Phelps said. "I talked with the hospital staff here after the test results came in. They're ready to discharge Fluey tomorrow, but I'd like to have him stay in the infirmary at HQ for a few days, chief, for observation."

"Very well, then," Big D said. "I'll see to the necessary paperwork immediately."

And with that, Big D and Dr. Phelps left the room, discussing psychiatric therapy or something like that. Fluey didn't really care. He was just glad to hear he was _finally_ going home.

The next morning, Fluey was being pushed down the hallway in a wheelchair by a nurse, on his way out to the Impossi-Mobile. And he didn't like it one bit.

"Come on, why can't I just walk out?" he asked.

"Liability reasons," the nurse explained. "Just in case you should fall while you're leaving, you can't sue."

"What happens if I fall out of the wheelchair?" Fluey asked.

"If that isn't a sign he's on the road to recovery, I don't know what is!" Multi shouted.

The others stifled a laugh, and approached the Impossi-Mobile. Big D, Phyllis, and Dr. Phelps were going to make the return trip to Megatropolis with the boys and Skittles, via Impossi-Jet. Mike, on the other hand, had no choice but to head back on his motorcycle.

"I just know you're gonna take this out of my vacation time, chief," Mike sighed. "You know it's gonna take me at least three days to get back there!"

"Can't be helped, Rogers," Big D said. "I don't like the idea of my granddaughter going back to Megatropolis on the back of your motorcycle for three days."

"Don't ya trust her, chief?"

"Yes, I trust her. It's _you_ I don't trust, Rogers!"

Mike said nothing, and headed over to where his bike was parked. Phyllis climbed into the backseat of the Impossi-Mobile next to Fluey, and put her arm around his shoulders.

"Boy, did you ever give us a scare this time!" she shouted. "I'm glad we managed to find you in one piece."

"Yeah, I'm glad to _be_ in one piece!" Fluey shouted. "For awhile, I didn't think I was gonna get out of _that_ one."

"You seem to be doing a lot better, though," Phyllis said.

"My mom helped a lot," Fluey said. "She came to see me, she got rid of my nightmares, she talked to me . . . . ."

Fluey stopped for a moment, and thought about what he was telling his sister. Then he glanced over at Big D and Dr. Phelps, sitting in the middle seat of the Impossi-Mobile (Multi was sitting up front with Coiley for the trip), and they were talking about psychiatric therapy again, like they had the night before.

"I don't think Big D believes me about my mom," Fluey said. "I mean, considering she's been dead for thirteen years. You don't think it's nuts or anything like that, do you, sis?"

"No, I don't think that's nuts," Phyllis said, leaning her head against Fluey's. "You wanted your mother, and she came because she knew you needed her. I think, even when they're gone, they still look after their children, no matter how old their children are. It's just that sometimes, we don't see them until we think we _really_ need them. Like a few days ago, when you were having those flashbacks, and we didn't know what to do to help you, especially when you kept saying you wanted your mother."

"So . . . . why's the chief talking about psychiatric therapy?"

"Post traumatic stress disorder issues. Believe me, Fluey, we know you've been through a lot, and the chief just wants to make sure you get proper treatment before he allows you to go back to crime fighting."

"Yeah, I think I see what you mean."

Fluey stifled a yawn, and leaned against Phyllis's shoulder. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, now that he, and the others knew the nightmare had finally come to an end.

The End


End file.
